Waiting Here
by Vive Moi Pas le Roi
Summary: His lips pressed against hers hungrily. She pulled him closer, their bodies pressed together and her fingers entangled in his hair. Yes, Marius Pontmercy was very drunk. Éponine tried to ignore that and just live in the moment. One night of passion and the next day, he's forgotten it all, leaving Éponine to deal with the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hello! This is a rewrite of a fic from my old account, which is full of embarrassingly bad Les Mis fanfictions (in my defense, I was like 14 when I wrote most of them). Anyway, I noticed that one of these old fics had a recent review asking for it to be continued. Instead, I'm rewriting it because I'm now older and I know how to write better (I hope). I'm not sure how popular Marius/Éponine fanfics are anymore (it's been a good five years since I last wrote Les Mis fanfiction), but it's still a pairing I enjoy (at least, based on their musical portrayals). I'm not sure though if this will actually end up being an M/É fic. Anyway, enough introduction; on to the story!

* * *

_Volume I_

His lips pressed against hers hungrily. She pulled him closer, their bodies pressed together and her fingers entangled in his hair. His hands slipped under her shirt and she gasped at the sensation of his hands on her bare flesh. He sloppily reached around her back to undo the fastenings on her corset, which fell to their feet.

"Wait," Éponine murmured, her lips still against his. She placed her hands on his to stop them from moving further up her waist. He started to kiss her neck and she couldn't suppress a giggle. "Marius! Someone might see."

They were still in the hallway of the Gorbeau House; they hadn't even made it into his apartment. Marius pushed the door open. Grinning crookedly, he picked her up and carried her inside to his bed, nearly tripping over a few stray books. The corset lay forgotten in the hallway.

Yes, Marius Pontmercy was very drunk. Éponine tried to ignore that and live in the moment.

...

When Éponine awoke the next morning, it took her a moment to remember where she was. She rolled onto her side and her eyes widened when she came face to face with a sleeping Marius. Even with his mouth hanging open and his hair sticking up every which way, she found him beautiful. She raised her hand to touch his cheek, but stopped inches from it. She sat up quickly.

"Shit," she muttered, quickly getting up. She hadn't gone home the night before. Her father would be furious. She scrambled to find her clothes, which were strewn around the room. She swore under her breath when she realised her corset was nowhere to be found; she would have to go without. Damn. It had been her only one. As quietly as possible so as not to wake the sleeping Marius, she dressed and headed for the door. Marius didn't stir in the slightest.

Outside in the hallway, she recalled where the corset had been left, only it was no longer there. Probably some other poor tenant of the Gorbeau House had seen it and taken it as her own. It wasn't uncommon for things to go missing in the Gorbeau House, if they weren't securely put away. Walking a few steps to the apartment next to Marius's, Éponine fished around in her skirt pocket for a key and entered her family's apartment.

Fortune smiled on the Jondrette girl, for her father was not yet awake. When she entered the small room, her father's snores greeted her, and her mother and sister turned to look at her. Meek Azelma was curled up by the small fireplace in which only a few burning embers remained, and her very large, very blonde mother sat at the small table at which the Thénardiers ate their meager meals, when they could afford to eat. That morning was not one such morning.

"'Ponine," Azelma murmured quietly in way of greeting. Their mother merely grunted in Éponine's direction.

Azelma stood and walked over to her sister. She took her hands in her own rather cold ones, biting her lip. Éponine frowned.

"What's wrong, 'Zelma?" She asked quietly, her brow furrowed in concern.

"I'm so sorry, 'Ponine," Azelma whispered, "but that boy you like... He was with a girl last night. I found her corset in the hallway." The words came out very quickly. Éponine opened her mouth to speak, but Azelma kept going. "But don't worry! I snatched it and threw it out in the snow. She'll have a job finding it."

Éponine nearly laughed. Her lips twitched upward.

"You're not sad?" Azelma asked her. She shook her head, unable to withhold a smile. Azelma's eyes looked back and forth between her sister's, then widened in understanding. "It was yours?" She mouthed. Éponine gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Her mother noticed anyway.

"He pay you?" Delphine Thénardier asked.

"M-Mother!" Éponine spluttered.

"So yer out all night an' yeh got no money to show for it? Yer dad won' be pleased. 'Zel was out till sun up an' she brought back nearly five francs. Yeh want a beating?"

"It was just one night..."

"Yeh'd better get out there and get some _artiche_. Yer dad hit the bottle hard las' night; yeh got time. Go."

"I'll go with," said Azelma. "Maybe we can find your corset."

...

The sun outside shone brightly, despite the cold wind. The bit of snow that had fallen the night previous glinted in the sunlight.

"It was around here..." Azelma was saying, leading her sister down an alleyway. "I kinda just ran out and chucked it. Sorry, 'Ponine. I didn't realise it was yours."

"Nah, it's fine," Éponine replied. "I wouldn't have guessed either. 'Zelma, we really need to get you some shoes. Look at how red your feet are! Maybe at the church..."

"No way," said Azelma quickly. "Those wooden shoes they give really pinch. I'd rather go without."

"Then take mine." Éponine had managed to nick some proper boots from a small shop the year before. They were worn, but at least they were boots.

"I'm not taking your boots. I'll be fine. Ah, look! There it is." She skipped over to an old, slightly yellowed corset which lay in the snow. She picked it up and handed it to her sister. "Tah-dah!" Éponine smiled softly and took the corset. She took a quick look around and, seeing no one else in the alley, slipped it under her shirt.

"Jesus, it's cold!"

"Well, yeah. It was in the snow," Azelma giggled.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. Do me up, would you?" She turned so that her back was to Azelma, who quickly tied her corset for her. "Thanks." Suppressing a shiver, she added under her breath: "Snow in November... Jesus..."

The two continued on, heading towards the Pont Neuf to cross over to the Île de la Cité. With any luck, there would be some wealthy church-goers from the Notre-Dame they could pickpocket, though the church wasn't as popular after the stained-glass windows had been shattered a few months earlier by anti-Legitimists. Still, there was usually a fair amount of people there, many of them quite wealthy.

...

Once again, Éponine was rather fortunate and within a couple of hours, they had stolen four francs and ten sous between them.

"With what I got last night, we can have a proper feast!" Azelma was saying as the two neared the Gorbeau House. "Dad'll be pleased."

"Father's never really pleased though, is he? Not really."

"Eh, but you'll be spared a beating," Azelma said brightly. "Ooh, look!" She said suddenly, elbowing Éponine in the ribs. "It's your Monsieur Marius."

Éponine looked up to see Marius leaving the Gorbeau House. He caught sight of them and started towards them. Éponine smiled widely.

"Why, good afternoon, Monsieur Marius."

"Hello, 'Ponine," he said in a subdued voice. Then he closed his eyes. "Ah, why does the sun have to be so bright?"

"Feeling a little rough, monsieur?"

"More than a little. What exactly happened last night? I remember accepting Grantaire's challenge to see who could drink the most and then... nothing."

Éponine's face fell.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing after the first few drinks. Hey, are you all right?"

"Fine," Éponine replied, her voice very tight.

"So, er, what happened after that? And did I win?"

Éponine let out a short, bark of a laugh.

"No, of course you didn't. Even I drank more than you did; you just don't handle it well." Her voice was somewhat cold. "After you fell out of your chair, Combeferre cut you off, so I said I'd bring you home."

"And...?"

"I brought you home."

"So I didn't embarrass myself. That's good. I have a tendency to—"

"Oh, I didn't say that," she said in a hard voice. "You danced with everyone at the Musain last night, even an unwilling Enjolras."

Marius laughed a bit despite himself. "Well thank you for bringing me home. I'm glad I can count on you; you're a good friend. Courfeyrac probably would have brought me to a different tavern." When Éponine responded only with stony silence, he frowned in concern. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah. Just dandy." She pushed past him to walk inside and Azelma followed, biting her lip.

"H-Hey, I'll see you around, right?" Marius called after her.

"Well, seeing as we're neighbours..." With that she entered the building, Azelma right behind her, leaving behind a very confused Marius.

"'Ponine?" Azelma said gently.

"I don't want to talk about it," Éponine said shortly.

"But 'Ponine..."

"It was nothing. Last night meant nothing. Just leave it, 'Zelma." And she continued up the steps to their apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

Éponine hurried up the stairs of the Gorbeau House, her sister trailing behind her.

"Would you quit looking at me like that?" She snapped at Azelma.

"Sorry, I just—"

"I said I'm fine. Just leave it."

"But aren't you gonna tell him?"

Éponine stopped mid-step and turned to properly face her.

"Tell him? Why would I do that? There's no way it was anything more than a one time thing... He... He doesn't feel that way about me, 'Zelma. I know that now."

"But—"

"Look, we were both drunk. It was a mistake; that's all. 'Zel, girls like us don't get guys like him."

Azelma looked affronted. "Well, I don't see why not."

"He's a different social class, 'Zelma. He's got a rich grandfather and, you know, prospects. He goes to school, 'Zelma. He can speak German and English, and he's gonna be a lawyer one day. You and I? We're gutter rats. That's just how it is; it's not gonna change."

"He lives in this shit hole, same as us."

"It's different, Azelma."

"Not really. Besides, we weren't always poor like this. If we can fall down so low, can't we also rise back up?"

Éponine laughed bitterly. "It's a lot easier to fall down than to climb up."

"But not impossible," Azelma maintained stubbornly. "What about Cosette? That old man took her away. Do you think she's still a gutter rat?"

"I don't know and I don't care. It's not like we're about to be adopted by some wealthy relative. We're poor and I really don't see that changing, and Marius deserves better."

"I still think you should tell him what happened last night."

"Why bother? What do you think the outcome would be? Because I know what would happen: he'd stutter out an apology, and then he'd be nervous and embarrassed every time he's near me. Things would never be the same. Our friendship would be over... I couldn't bear it if that happened. I'm not going to tell him and you'd better not either."

"'Ponine..."

"It is what it is, Azelma. Just... leave it."

"... Fine."

Éponine continued up the stairs and to the door of their apartment. She pushed it open and walked inside, Azelma following.

"So yeh've come back," their father said in way of greeting.

"Yeah," Éponine replied. Arnaud Thénardier stretched out his hand and Éponine dug into her pocket for the money she and Azelma had nicked. Instead she found a hole.

"Well?" Her father demanded.

"I gave it to mum when I came home this morning," she lied. The madame withdrew from her own pocket the money Azelma had stolen the night before and handed it to her husband.

"Four francs, 15 sous," he counted with a scowl. "That it?" He looked to Azelma. "You?"

"Th-That's from b-both of us," Azelma stammered. Thénardier's face was growing red and he raised his hand to smack her, but Éponine stood in the way.

"It's not Azelma's fault!" She said quickly. "I'm the one who barely brought anything back. But we can still afford some bread and butter, maybe even a few scraps of meat."

"That so? Well, yer mum, yer sister, and I will enjoy that. Yeh can go without, since yeh don' feel like contributin' to the fam'ly, 'less yeh wanna go down to the docks tonight."

Éponine flushed angrily. "I will not."

Thénardier glared at her. "Yeh'll do as yer told."

"Not that."

The back of his hand came down hard on her cheek, and she was knocked back and onto the ground.

"Get out," he growled, "an' don' come back until yeh've done something useful."

She glared at him and got to her feet.

"I won't be back," she spat. She turned to her sister, "'Zelma, come with me."

"'P-Ponine, I—"

Thénardier roughly grabbed Azelma's wrist and pulled her toward him. "She's not goin' anywhere!"

"Don't you fucking touch her," Éponine hissed. Thénardier backhanded her a second time, but she stood her ground. "Let go of her!" She tried to claw at him, but he punched her hard in the stomach and she dropped to her knees. He started to kick her. She tried to back away, but he knocked her to the ground and landed a heavy kick to her face. She felt her nose break.

"'Ponine, forget me! Get outta here!" Azelma pleaded.

"Let 'er go, Arnaud," Madame Thénardier spoke up. "Jus' let 'er go. S'not worth it if yeh kill her." Monsieur Thénardier begrudgingly ceased with his attacks. He spat at his elder daughter and then backed off.

"Go."

Eyes watering and blood rushing freely from her nose, Éponine hastily got to her feet and staggered out of the apartment. Leaning against the wall for support, she made her way to the stairs and then slowly sank to the ground. She laughed humourlessly.

"Fucking stairs," she muttered. She closed her eyes as the room started to spin. _No, no, no... I can't pass out here, _she thought. _I am not about to be stymied by stairs_. She tried to stand, but found that it simply could not be done. She groaned. _I can't stay here_. She crawled closer to the top step and grabbed onto the railing, using it to pull herself to her feet. Leaning heavily on the rail, she slowly made her way down the stairs. Black spots had begun to cloud her vision. She was only halfway down the stairs when she slipped away into nothingness.

...

_"Éponine... Éponine..."_

_She knew that voice, knew its warmth. Everything was white, as though covered by a thick fog. She could see nothing else and yet, she did not feel afraid._

_"Éponine..." _

_Was this death? Everything was so warm and soft. Éponine felt light, weightless. If she flapped her arms, perhaps she would fly. As it was, she felt sure she was floating. Oh, to stay here forever. There were no doubts, no worries, no pain... Surely this must be heaven. She was dead and now she would rest eternally, forever in peace. That didn't seem so bad. She would stay, then. She didn't want to go back._

_"Éponine..."_

_And that voice. She could listen to it forever. That voice meant safety. Everything would be all right as long as that voice remained. Éponine would just float here and listen for the rest of eternity. Yes, that sounded nice._

_"Éponine..."_

_There was a tone of panic to the voice now. But surely that couldn't be right, not if this was heaven. But Éponine was starting to feel heavier. The light was dimming and pain was returning._

_"Éponine..."_

_No! She didn't want to go back. She wanted to stay... Please..._

"Éponine?"

Her eyes fluttered open and she found she was in a dimly lit room that she didn't recognise. Everything hurt and a groan escaped her. She felt a hand seize her own.

"Oh, Éponine! Oh, thank god! I... I was worried you might not... It doesn't matter. You're awake now and you're going to be okay."

"Marius?" She turned her head to the side and her eyes fell upon him. She tried to sit up, but he gently pushed her back down.

"Woah, take it easy," he murmured. "You fell down the stairs and hit your head pretty hard. Combeferre says you've got a concussion and a few broken ribs, but you're going to be okay."

"Where are we?"

"Combeferre and Enjolras's apartment. They have three rooms, so you can stay here while you heal. This used to be Courfeyrac's room, but he was always bringing girls home, so he ended up getting his own place. But don't worry, I can let your family know you're safe."

Éponine scoffed.

"That'll just depress them." Then, she added: "Well, maybe let Azelma know."

Marius frowned. "Did you have another fight with your parents?"

"Something like that."

"I'm sorry, 'Ponine. Is there anything I can do?"

"No, you've done enough," Éponine said sharply, before she could stop herself.

"What do you mean?" Marius asked, a little hurt. Éponine sighed heavily and closed her eyes.

"Nothing. I'm sorry. Brain injury, y'know..."

"Is there anything I can get you? Tea or... or soup or something?"

"I... I think I just want to be alone right now..." She said, turning away from him, even though it hurt to do so.

"O-Oh. R-Right. Of course. I'll... uh... just let you rest then." He turned and began to leave, but paused in the doorway. "... Feel better, 'Ponine." Then he was gone.

Tears stung Éponine's eyes. It was like kicking a puppy, sending him away like that, but she didn't think she could bear being in the same room as him just then. Soon the tears were running freely down her bloodied and bruised face.

"Damn it," she whispered. She closed her eyes and tried to stem the flow of tears. _I don't love him. It can never be. I _don't_ love him._ But she knew that no matter how many times she told herself this, it wouldn't make it true.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week passed by in a blur. Éponine, on Combeferre's strict instructions, was on bed rest and despised every minute of it. Still, she couldn't bring herself to speak to Marius and every time he visited, she pretended to be asleep. After the first few days, Marius took the hint and while he would still visit the apartment to ask Combeferre how she was doing, he stopped going into the room. He didn't understand why she was suddenly pushing him away and he was hurt by it. He didn't know what exactly he had done wrong. He would have liked to ask Éponine this so that he could begin to atone, but there was nothing for it; she wouldn't talk to him just now and he wasn't going to force her. So everyday he would drop by the apartment, looking much like a lost puppy, and ask Combeferre for an update, and everyday Éponine would listen from the spare room and fight back the incessant urge to cry.

On the eighth day of her recovery, Courfeyrac stopped by the apartment and asked to see her. This took Éponine by surprise, but she sat up as Courfeyrac entered the room. He fixed her with an uncharacteristically stern look and moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Éponine shifted somewhat awkwardly under his gaze.

"Éponine," he said in way of greeting.

"Courfeyrac."

"How are you feeling?"

"Just peachy," she said sarcastically.

"Why are you avoiding Marius?"

"Wow. Right to the point. Okay. I'm not avoiding him," she said, determined that this was technically the truth. "I'm not really in a condition to avoid anyone, seeing as I can't leave the bed."

"Yet you've found a way all the same. Éponine, c'mon. He's miserable, you know. He thinks he's done something wrong, that you hate him now."

"Look, I don't really know you all that well. I don't want to talk about this with you," Éponine said pointedly. Sure, Courfeyrac was a nice enough person, but she felt no closeness with him. She wasn't about to confide in him what had happened that night, after the Musain. Besides, he was sure to tell Marius and Éponine had already decided that he should never know.

"So there _is_ something. Well, whatever it is, Marius is very sorry and he really wants to make things right."

"There's nothing he can do," Éponine said flatly. "Look, some shit went down with my bastard father and I really don't want to talk about it." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.

"Is that all?"

"Yeah. That's all. My ego was wounded and... and I'm really embarrassed. I don't want to be pressed for details and I don't want Marius to know what happened. It's got nothing to do with him," she lied.

"I'll tell him that," said Courfeyrac. "But would you at least talk to him? I really think he might start crying soon. It's very sad."

Éponine bit her lip. "I don't know..."

"C'mon, Éponine. He's your friend. Don't push him away."

"I... Fine," she said finally. "But not today. Tomorrow."

"I'll let him know. By the way, he told your sister that you're here. She's going to try to visit, but Marius thinks your dad is being harsh with her, so it might be hard for her to leave."

"Harsh? Is she okay? Was she—?"

"I don't know. You'd have to ask Marius; I'm just the messenger."

"Right... I... I should go to her." She tried to get up, but Courfeyrac jumped to his feet to stop her.

"No, you really shouldn't. Have you seen yourself? You shouldn't be going anywhere just now."

"But..."

"Relax. If it wasn't safe for her there, surely Marius would have noticed. He would have said something."

But Éponine wasn't so sure. Marius wasn't known for his astute observations. Seeing the doubt evident in her face, Courfeyrac continued:

"Marius is going to keep an eye on her, check in every so often. Don't worry. Your sister will be all right."

"Right..."

"Look, you should get some rest now. Take it easy. You fell down a flight of stairs; that takes some recovering."

Éponine merely nodded in response to this. Courfeyrac gave her a reassuring smile before leaving the room. She closed her eyes and tried not to worry about Azelma, but it couldn't be done and she fell asleep imagining the terrible things her father might be doing to her little sister.

...

Éponine woke up to the sound of the window opening. She sat up quickly, wincing as she did so. It was dark now, clearly nighttime. Her eyes moved to the window, where she could see someone rather small climbing in.

"Who's there?" She called out in a loud whisper. The figure hit its head off the window frame and swore under its breath. Now fully in the room, the figure straightened and Éponine nearly let out a laugh of relief. "Gavroche?"

The small boy looked up. "'Ponine? What the 'ell are you doin' 'ere?"

"Me? I could ask you the same question."

"Eh, I crash 'ere sometimes. Since Courfeyrac left, no one comes in 'ere. S'cold outside tonight, so 'ere I am." He approached the bed. "Wow. You look like shit."

"Thanks," Éponine said dryly. "Do Enjolras and Combeferre know you sleep in here?"

"Nah. There'd be no fun in that. I 'spect Combeferre might 'ave some idea, but Enjolras ain't got a clue. What the 'ell 'appened to you?" He moved to sit next to her on the bed. "Was it that asshole?"

"No," Éponine lied. "I fell down the stairs."

"Jeez. You gotta be more careful. Look at 'ow big an' puffy your nose is. An' your cheek is all black an' blue. You sure 'e didn' 'ave nothin' to do with it?"

"It was just the stairs, 'Roche."

Gavroche gave her a scrutinizing look. "Ya know you don' 'ave to lie to me. It looks like 'e backhanded you. I know what fightin' bruises look like."

"Okay, fine. He struck me, so I left and got a bit dizzy going down the stairs, and I fell."

Gavroche was nodding understandingly. "Well, coulda been worse, I s'ppose. An' now you're out, so that's a bonus. You're not goin' back, right?" When she shook her head, he smiled and nodded again. "Yeah, that's the ticket. Gotta stay away from them assholes. 'Zel's okay, but our parents are real pieces of shit. S'why I left when I did. At least the bitch treated you an' 'Zel all right, but she never cared for me. S'all right though. Most nights I live in my elephant, 'cept for when it's cold like tonight. Did ya see the snow las' week?"

"Yeah, I saw the snow."

"That was a nasty shock. Doesn't usually snow that early. Spent the night 'ere that night and left out the window first thing in the mornin', an' then came knocking at the door. They 'ad no idea I'd spent the night o'course, but they gave me summat to eat."

"You know, they'd probably let you stay here if you just asked."

"I know they would, but as I said: where's the fun in that? Nah, it's nice to break in when there's no actual threat o' being caught. Anyway, I'll get goin' then an' leave you to rest."

"No, stay," said Éponine. "The bed's big enough for both of us."

"Yeah, but if they come in to check on ya, the jig is up an' I won't be able to break in no more. They'll invite me in, god forbid. Nah, I'll go."

"But won't you be cold? 'Roche, stay. Combeferre isn't coming in every few hours anymore. He did for the first few days. I guess to make sure I was just asleep and not unconscious. Now he doesn't come in until well after sunrise. Stay, and you can still leave before he comes in to check on me."

"Ah, go on, then. You've convinced me. Budge over, then."

Éponine very carefully moved over in the bed and Gavroche lay down next to her.

"Sleep well then, 'Ponine."

"You too, 'Roche."

...

By the time Éponine woke the next morning, Gavroche had already gone. About ten minutes after she'd woken up, there came a knock at the door and Combeferre walked in, carrying a tray with two bowls of soup on it and two cups of tea.

"Good morning, Éponine. Ah, I see Gavroche has already gone."

"So you do know?" Éponine asked, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Of course. Usually I pretend I don't, but I thought Gavroche might still be here. I thought he might have stayed with you." He set the tray down on the bedside table. "He does like his little game. Enjolras has no idea that we have a part-time roommate, though I don't think he'd mind anyway."

"He thinks it's more fun if he breaks in," Éponine said, reaching for the cup of tea. "Gavroche finds fun in odd ways, but he does manage to keep himself amused most of the time, so maybe he's actually got the right idea."

"Well, of course. Using doors is boring, don't you know. Windows are much more fashionable."

Éponine laughed. It felt good to laugh. She took a sip of her tea, which was nice and strong— just as she liked it. "I can't thank you enough for taking me in like this, helping me recover."

"Don't mention it," Combeferre said with a smile. "How are you feeling today?"

"My ribs are still really sore, but I guess that's to be expected. My head's feeling a lot better though. I don't even get dizzy anymore when I sit up. My nose is still pretty swollen though."

"It will take a couple weeks for your nose to fully heal. Unfortunately, it will probably be over a month before your ribs are fully healed. You're welcome to stay here in the meantime."

"I really appreciate that," said Éponine, "but I'll be out of your hair soon enough. I don't want to impose."

"Oh, it's not an imposition at all," Combeferre assured her. "But it's up to you. Stay as long as you'd like; we do have the extra room. Now, I'll be out of the apartment for most of the day; I have a rather sizable exam to write. Enjolras will be here though, if you need anything. And I think Prouvaire might stop by to bring you flowers. He's been growing them himself. His apartment is essentially an indoor garden. Marius will probably come too. I don't know if you're ready to see him yet, but he does come everyday."

The one thing that Éponine appreciated above all else was that Combeferre didn't pry. He never betrayed to Marius that Éponine was only pretending to sleep, even if Marius had worked that out for himself. He also never tried to pressure her to talk to Marius, or to talk at all if she didn't want to.

"I told Courfeyrac I'd talk to him today," Éponine said, blanching a bit at the thought.

"Well, I hope it goes well. I'll leave you to eat now," he said. He grabbed the extra bowl of soup and cup of tea. "I'll bring these to Enjolras. He'll forget to eat if I don't remind him." Then he paused. "I imagine it must be a bit boring, just lying in here all day. We have quite a few books, if you'd like to read."

"I'd like that. Thank you."

"Anytime," Combeferre replied, starting for the door.

"Combeferre?" He stopped and turned to face her. "You're a good man," she told him. He smiled once more and left the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Jean Prouvaire came over to the apartment a couple hours after Combeferre left, and he did indeed bring flowers. Enjolras showed him into Éponine's room and he nearly dropped the flowers at the sight of her.

"Oh, you poor thing!" He cried, rushing to her side. "Are you all right? Look at that bruise on your cheek! Oh, and your swollen nose..."

Éponine smiled faintly. "I'm all right, Monsieur. Please don't fret. It looks worse than it actually is at this point."

He held out the purple and blue flowers to her. "Geraniums and larkspur. I grew them myself."

"Thank you. They're beautiful."

"Everyone deserves flowers when they're not well," Prouvaire said matter-of-factly. "It's the least I could do. Well, that and perhaps offer you some company, if you're feeling lonely. I have no classes until later today."

"I'd like that," Éponine said with a smile, and Prouvaire sat down on the edge of the bed. She didn't know Prouvaire very well, but she'd always liked him well enough. He was a very gentle person, and kind-hearted as well. In fact, it would have been very hard not to like Jean Prouvaire. He was simply a likable person. "So what do you study?" She asked him.

"Literature and philosophy," Prouvaire replied. "But I've also been learning Italian. My goal is to read and hopefully understand Dante's Divine Comedy in its original language. I find literature is always best when read in its original language. There are certain things that are lost in translation."

"That makes sense. I imagine languages are very nuanced."

"Indeed. But how are you? Has Marius come to visit yet?"

Her face fell slightly. "No. Not yet. He's... He's coming later."

Prouvaire studied her for a moment. "Is everything all right? Has... Has anything happened?"

"N-No. Everything's fine." Her voice shook slightly. It was a lie she was tired of telling; part of her wished people would stop asking. But Prouvaire's gaze was piercing and she almost felt as though he could see right through her. There was so much kindness and understanding there that before she could stop herself, she was telling him everything. "Th-That night at the Musain... A-After I brought him home, h-he... we... A-And then the next day... He doesn't even remember." Her face crumpled and she began to cry, despite the fact that Éponine Thénardier, as a general principle, did not cry in front of people.

"Oh, flower..." Prouvaire murmured, compassion evident in his face. She turned her face away in shame, but Prouvaire softly assured her: "Hey, it's okay to cry."

"It's not," she said, wiping away her tears. "It's really not. Monsieur—"

"Please, call me Jehan."

"Jehan... _Please_ don't tell him. I... I don't want this to ruin our friendship. He can't know— he _mustn't_ know."

He gently took one of her hands in both of his own. "I'm not going to tell him," he murmured, "but I really think that you should, when you're ready to."

She shook her head fervently. "I can't, Jehan. I won't ever tell him. I just... I need to get over this. I need to forget what happened and move on, otherwise... I can't lose him as a friend."

"Éponine," he ventured tentatively, "do you have feelings for Marius?"

"No," she replied, much too quickly. She could see that Jehan didn't believe her. "I... I think I... I love him," she said hopelessly. "But I know he doesn't feel the same way."

"How can you know that unless you ask?"

She shook her head again. "No... No, I know he doesn't. Just... Just trust me. Marius will never love me."

"If you say so... Will you be okay? Do you need a hug?"

No longer trusting her voice, she merely nodded and Jehan enfolded her in his arms. Éponine buried her face in his shoulder and just cried. He gently patted her hair and murmured words of reassurance, slowly rocking her back and forth. How long they stayed like that, Éponine did not know. It felt good to be held. At some point, she must have fallen asleep because when she next opened her eyes, Jehan was gone and the flowers were on the nightstand.

"Éponine?" came a voice that did not belong to Prouvaire. Éponine looked up and saw Marius in the doorway. It looked like he had been about to leave, but now he walked over to her. "You were asleep. I didn't want to bother you..."

"Marius..."

"How are you? It feels like forever since I last saw you. You were always asleep when I came to visit. I... I was starting to think you didn't want to see me. Are you all right? Are you healing?"

"I'm fine, Marius," she said in a tired voice. "How are you? And how's Azelma? Courfeyrac said you'd seen her. Is she all right?"

"She's fine," Marius assured her. "Still very quiet, but quite relieved when I told her you would be okay. I think she almost smiled. And I'm all right too, though it's been lonely without you to talk to." Éponine felt a twinge of guilt at this. "But don't feel bad!" He continued hastily, "I understand that you need time. I don't know exactly what happened with your father, of course, but if you ever want to talk about it—a-and don't feel pressured to—I'm here for you."

"Thanks, Marius," Éponine said quietly.

"Of course. Anytime. And I'll keep checking in on Azelma for you, if you want. Mostly things have been quiet at the Gorbeau House. I haven't even heard arguing coming from your family's apartment. I think your father has been intimidating Azelma though. She was even quieter than usual when I spoke with her, but it could just be that she was worried about you."

"Right... Well she knows I'm okay now, so that's... that's good."

"Yeah. You have no idea how scary it was when you... I came back to the Gorbeau House and you were lying face-down at the bottom of the stairs, a-and there was so much blood that I... I thought you might be... But you weren't. Thank god you weren't. I had no idea how long you'd been lying there like that; it was quite late when I got back from the university. The only thing I could think to do was to bring you to Combeferre. Thank god I did. He knew exactly what to do. And... And then it took what felt like forever for you to wake up... But you did wake up and that's what matters, and you're going to be okay."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Éponine said quietly. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"How did you fall? Did you trip?"

"Something like that."

Marius frowned. "Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?"

Éponine sighed heavily. "I was hungry, Marius," she lied. "I got a bit lightheaded and... well, you saw what happened."

"Oh, 'Ponine..." he murmured. "You should have come to me. I'm always willing to buy you food."

She shook her head. "Marius, you can barely feed yourself. You shouldn't worry about feeding me as well."

"'Ponine, I know that if I ever needed to, I could go to my grandfather and he would give me money for food. I wouldn't be proud of it, but it would be an option. What I'm trying to say is that I really don't mind using what meager money I have to help you out because I don't really have the worry of running out."

"Marius... I would never ask you to go to your grandfather and wound your pride like that. That man lied to you your entire life about your father; would you really go back to him? Think about what his lies cost you. You could have had many happy years with your dad. No. You're not asking your grandfather for money on my account. I can fend for myself."

"Please let me help you."

"You're already helping me," she said softly. "You help me just by being a part of my life. You're my friend, my confidant. You're someone I can talk to about anything." _Well, almost anything_, she thought. "Please, try not to worry. I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself."

"If you say so, 'Ponine..."

"I do say so. Now, come sit by me. Keep me company."

Marius became somewhat flustered. "I'm really sorry, 'Ponine. Truly. But I can't stay very long. I have to get to work soon. There's a manuscript that needs to be fully translated by tomorrow morning. I got here a couple hours ago, but you were asleep and... Oh, 'Ponine. I'm sorry. I'd really like to stay..."

"No, no, it's fine," she assured him. "How much time do you have?"

He pulled out an old, battered pocket-watch. "Fifteen minutes."

"Then just sit with me a little while."

He smiled faintly. "I can do that."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I don't know if anyone is reading this, but I'm having a lot of fun writing it.

* * *

Another week passed and Éponine was up and about once more. Her nose was healed and the bruising on her face had considerably faded. Despite Combeferre's assurances that she was welcome to stay, she was ready to leave the apartment and find shelter on her own; however, Combeferre had insisted that she stay for one more meal, and after returning from a brief walk outside, Éponine found that the apartment was full of familiar faces: the Amis de l'ABC, including her brother and sister. It was the latter she was most eager to see.

"'Zelma!" She cried, rushing over to her sister and immediately regretting it as she was painfully reminded of her healing ribs. She threw her arms around her sister's thin frame.

"Woah, take it easy," Azelma murmured, gingerly returning the hug. Éponine gently took her face in her hands, carefully examining her. "'Ponine, gerroff," Azelma grumbled.

"You've lost weight." Éponine frowned. "Hey, where did these bruises come from?" She asked, noticing some dark, finger-shaped bruises on her neck. Azelma pulled away from her.

"S'nothing. Look, can we not do this here?" She asked, casting glances at the others in the room. Apart from those of her siblings, the only face she recognised was Marius's; she wasn't particularly keen on discussing personal matters in front of strangers.

"Right... But this conversation isn't over," Éponine told her. Azelma merely shrugged in response.

After this, the party picked up considerably. Everyone had been a bit hesitant when Combeferre announced that Enjolras had made dinner, but it turned out he was an excellent cook. He had made boeuf bourguignon and chicken chasseur, and they were the best things Éponine had ever tasted. Then Grantaire brought out the wine and the night became a bit hazy.

"No, no, no!" Éponine was insisting rather loudly, "The _best_ part was when he tried to kiss Madame Hucheloup on the cheek and she smacked him with her rolling pin. Frankly, I'm surprised he didn't bruise."

"Eh, Marius's got a thick skull," Courfeyrac replied merrily, ruffling his friend's hair. Marius swatted his hand away, but laughed all the same.

"At least 'Ponine took care of me and brought me home," Marius said. "_You _would have taken me to the Corinthe."

"Me?" Courfeyrac gasped dramatically. "Well, I would never!"

"Oh, sure," Bahorel laughed. "'Cause you _never_ bar hop. Remember that solid week back in '29 when I'm pretty sure we went to every bar in Paris."

"Only in Paris?" Feuilly asked. "Pretty sure we woke up in Nanterre one morning."

"Yeah, we might have done," Courfeyrac agreed. "Ah, '29 was wild."

"Then the bloody revolution came and you all had to go and smarten up. Man, 1830 sucked," Grantaire added.

"1830 was unfortunate," Enjolras murmured. "We replaced a terrible king with another terrible king. Things will be different next time."

"Next time," Grantaire scoffed. "There won't be a next time."

"There is always a next time in the fight against tyranny."

"Perhaps so, but that doesn't mean there's any chance of success. You're talking about taking on the National Guard. The people are content enough at having a new king, aren't they? They aren't about to overthrow the government again."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand," Enjolras replied in an even voice. "Your brothers here know what it means to fight for freedom."

"Oh, I know what it means to fight for freedom: premature death."

Enjolras gave him a withering look. "You will see. Even if we are not destined to be successful, our deaths will have an impact. You wouldn't understand because you have no links with the other secret societies that share common interests with us."

Marius looked up. "There are others?" He asked cluelessly.

"Of course there are others. No group can be more than 20 people due to law passed after the July Revolution. Obviously we had to work around that, so there are multiple sections, each with a president and vice president. In fact, Combeferre will be meeting with the vice president of the Society of the Rights of Man next week, Godefroi Cavaignac. They were pivotal in the July Revolution; hopefully, the same will be true for the next one."

"You're ruining my buzz," Grantaire complained. "C'mon, this is a party. Let's not talk politics."

Enjolras looked as though he wanted to argue, but a look from Combeferre silenced him.

The rest of the night passed in drunken merriment. Only Enjolras, Combeferre, Gavroche, and Azelma did not drink. The latter tried to slip away from the party a few hours after dinner without saying goodbye, but Éponine caught her by the arm.

"You headin' out, 'Zel?" She asked her, slurring her words.

"Yeah. I'll be missed, y'know. Our old man's expecting me."

Éponine frowned. "Are they treating you okay?"

Azelma merely nodded. Éponine was about to push for more information, but Azelma cut her off. "Look, I gotta go. I'll see you around."

"Azelma—"

"'Bye, 'Ponine." And she left. Éponine was about to follow her, but Gavroche, who had been watching, stopped her.

"She ain't gonna tell you nothin' right now an' if ya make 'er late, the old man'll give 'er a beatin'. 'Member you ain't there no more to take the blows for her. She's tougher than ya give 'er credit for, y'know."

Éponine opened and closed her mouth a couple times. "I... I shouldn't have left..."

Gavroche shook his head. "Ya did what you 'ad to do. One day, she'll get out too."

She tried to believe him. She really wanted to believe him, but there was a nagging doubt that told her Azelma would always be too timid to leave. Truthfully, she feared for her sister's well-being, but she knew there wasn't much she could do for her at the moment. She tried to return to the party, but she found she no longer felt like celebrating. That is, not until Marius quite suddenly enveloped her in his arms and began to dance with her to the music Jehan was playing on his flute. Despite herself, she threw her head back and laughed as she danced with him. He held her close to him, and she felt warm and tingly. She also had an overwhelming feeling of perfect security. As the music slowed to an end, Éponine forgot herself and leaned in to kiss him. Very briefly, their lips met. Then he pulled back, blushing to the roots of his black hair.

"'P-Ponine..." he stammered, his green eyes looking back and forth between her own hazel ones. "I... N-No, we really shouldn't..."

Éponine took several steps back from him. "S-Sorry, I don't know what I..."

"No, no, it's fine," he assured her. "It's the wine, probably."

"Marius, I..."

"No, really. Don't worry about it." He smiled at her. "Come on, let's enjoy the party."

...

The party went on into the early hours of the morning. Enjolras had tried to excuse himself so that he could go to bed, but there was nothing for it; the noise was too much and he soon returned. Now, however, various members of the Amis de l'ABC were strewn across the different pieces of furniture, passed out. Grantaire, probably knowing the extent to which it would annoy him, had deliberately passed out in Enjolras's bed, rather than the spare bed. Gavroche, probably also knowing how it bother Enjolras, had joined him and Grantaire had draped an arm around him. In the spare bed lay Marius, who had been half carried, half dragged there by Courfeyrac and Éponine. These same two lay passed out on either side of him. Feuilly was passed out on the sofa with Bahorel sprawled across the floor next to it; Combeferre was in his own bed, joined by Enjolras; Joly and Lesgles had left a couple hours prior, insisting Musichetta would give them hell if they stayed out until morning; and Jean Prouvaire was still playing his flute. Indeed, he suspected that this had been the downfall of his friends, luring them into the ever-so-tempting realm of sleep. The last few notes of the song he had composed himself slowed and with a shimmering vibrato, came to a stop. He moved to the window and looked out.

It was very late, probably close to 3AM. Jehan didn't mind though; he liked the stillness of the night. After looking up to the stars for a few moments, he moved to the armchair where he curled up and sleep claimed him.

...

When Éponine awoke in the morning, most of les Amis de l'ABC had cleared out. Marius and Courfeyrac still lay asleep in the bed and upon getting up, Éponine learned that Grantaire was still asleep in Enjolras's bed. Combeferre told her conspiratorially that soon, Enjolras's patience would be at its limit and then the fun would come. This wasn't the first time Grantaire had fallen asleep in his bed and, Combeferre explained, the only solution to this—at least as far as Enjolras was concerned—was to dump cold water on him.

"You might want to wake Courfeyrac and Marius though," Combeferre told her. "It will get loud."

"What'll get loud?" Courfeyrac asked as he left the spare room. "You gonna wake Grantaire?"

"Enjolras will," Combeferre replied.

"Ah, so we can expect shouting. What a rousing start to the day."

Enjolras then entered the apartment, carrying a bucket.

"Where're you coming from?" Courfeyrac asked. Enjolras gave a rare smile and there was an air of mischief about him.

"I assumed Grantaire would sleep in my bed, seeing as he does it every time he drinks here. So before everyone arrived yesterday, I filled this with water and left it outside in the alleyway. It should be fairly cold, considering the drop in temperature last night. Perhaps he'll think better of sleeping there next time."

Éponine chuckled and returned to the spare room to wake Marius. His hair was sticking up from every angle. She smiled as she looked down on him. She felt an urge to kiss his forehead, but decided against it. Considering his reaction to their kiss the night before, he was not interested in a romantic relationship with her. Sighing softly, she gently shook his should.

"Nn... The eagle's gonna get it..." Marius murmured. She shook him again and he opened his eyes. "Oh. Hello, 'Ponine. What're you doing in my room?"

"We're still at Combeferre and Enjolras's place. C'mon, s'time to get up. Enjolras is about to dump water on Grantaire's head."

Then came the loudest and longest stream of profanities either of them had ever heard, ending with:

"Fucking Christ!"

Éponine giggled. "I'd say Grantaire is now awake."

Marius sat up. "I think you're probably right. So... What now, 'Ponine?"

"Mm?"

"I know you don't plan on staying here. Where will you go? What will you do?"

"Dunno yet. But I'll figure it out. I'll probably get a job as a seamstress or something, try making an honest living. Well, mostly honest."

"If you ever need anything..."

"I know," she said softly. "Believe me, I know."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! And thank you to my first reviewer. I'm really glad you're enjoying the story so far.

* * *

A couple more weeks passed and Éponine had settled in with a new job as a seamstress in a dress shop in the Place Saint-Denis. The work was easy enough as she knew how to sew well enough. The more complicated stitches and designs had eluded her at first, but a fellow seamstress had provided her with a book full of different stitches and patterns. It had basically become like her bible. She had also found a one room apartment that she could only just afford. She still didn't always have enough for full meals, but she made enough money to get by. It was freeing to no longer live under her father's thumb, to be able to talk to whomever she'd like and do whatever she'd like.

Yes, things were going fairly well at first. Then, suddenly, they weren't.

Another couple weeks had passed and Éponine had come to a terrible realisation: she was late. She had been late before, sure; being grossly underweight can do that, but she had never been this late before. It couldn't be; she refused to accept it. How would she tell Marius? How could she? Not when he had no idea that they had been intimate to begin with. _Maybe_, she thought, _maybe he doesn't have to know. Besides, it's Christmas next week. I can't ruin that. And I might be wrong, anyway_. So she was determined not to mention anything, at least not yet. Not until she could be sure.

This was bad enough, but unfortunately it wasn't the only misfortune to befall her. The following week, only a couple days before Christmas, Éponine's employer called her into his office.

"Mademoiselle Jondrette," he started (she had kept the false last name used by her family), "I have been very impressed with your performance." He got up from his desk and moved around to approach her. "Very impressed indeed. In fact, I think it may be time for a little promotion." He was getting very close to her. Éponine grit her teeth, knowing exactly what he was getting at. She backed into the wall and he put his hands on the wall, on either side of her head. "If you help me out with a little something, I can make it well worth your while."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then I'll be forced to conclude that you are not a team player and therefore not a good fit for my establishment."

"I wasn't aware your establishment was a whore house," she replied scathingly. "I'll find work elsewhere."

He laughed harshly. "You can try. Now come on. Be a good little girl and I'll give you a nice Christmas bonus."

_Smack! _Her hand collided hard with his cheek.

"You'll regret that, you bitch!" He growled. He made to grab at her, but she seized his shoulders and brought her knee up hard into his groin. He doubled over and she pushed him down.

"I'll be going now," she said coldly. She turned and left the office, and found that the two other seamstresses that worked there were watching the door with baited breath, as though they knew their employer's intentions.

"Did he...?" One asked. Éponine shook her head.

"I've decided to seek employment elsewhere. I would advise you two to do the same."

The second seamstress, Jeannette, gave a sad smile. "There aren't many options left to us. We got rent to pay, kids to feed. It's best for us to let him do what he wants, really. We need the money and he pays well enough for it. But I hope you find your way, and you can keep that book I gave you."

"Thanks," Éponine said quietly. "I... I wish there were something I could do to help you two."

"Well, if you ever make something of yourself," said the first seamstress, Louise, "remember us. Come and see us, if you're ever able."

"Right. I... I'll do that."

...

Once she returned to her apartment, Éponine set about counting what little money she had. If she could just make rent for the week, that would give her time to find a new job.

"Three and eighteen... nineteen... twenty. Four francs. Fuck." She was short a franc and she didn't find it likely her landlord would be pleased. She placed the four francs under her pillow and headed for the door, resolved to go pickpocketing.

It was raining outside and there weren't many people out and about. Still, she felt fairly confident she could manage to steal at least a franc, if not a bit more. She wasn't wrong either; she was doing fairly well and had managed to nick fifteen sous. She was about to steal another six when the man whom she was pickpocketing suddenly grabbed her wrist. He turned and upon seeing her, released her. He was an older man with perfectly white hair. She was surprised to find she recognised him; he was the one they called Monsieur Leblanc. He went to the Luxembourg Gardens daily with the girl they called Mademoiselle Lenoir. At least, these were the nicknames Marius and Courfeyrac had coined for them. That had been a little while ago; Marius hadn't been there in awhile, so neither had Éponine. Still, she recognised the calm, lined face and the white hair. The girl, however, was not with him.

"Sorry," Éponine muttered, though she didn't really mean it. This man's affluence was evident, and Éponine found it hard to ever pity the rich. Much to her surprise, the old man smiled at her. Rather than shouting, he calmly asked,

"How much do you need?"

Éponine blinked. "Sorry?"

"How much do you need, Mademoiselle? I presume you haven't resorted to thievery because of the fun of it. What can I give you?"

"Aren't you going to call for the police?"

The man laughed softly. "No, no. I have more money than I could ever spend. I consider it my duty to help the destitute. Please, what can I give you?"

Éponine merely stared for a moment, not entirely sure that this man could be believed. Then, slowly, she told him: "I only need five more sous to make my rent. I just lost my job and realised I was short on money."

Monsieur Leblanc pulled out a coin purse from the inside pocket of his tailcoat. He looked inside it for a moment and then held it out to her. "There's ten francs in there. I'm sorry it isn't more."

She stared at the coin purse, but didn't take it. "You're not serious." But he gently took her hand and placed the coin purse in it.

"Make sure you buy yourself something to eat," he told her. "And if you're ever in need of more, my daughter and I give soup and shoes to the poor every Sunday outside the Saint-Étienne-du-Mont church."

"I-I... Thank you. I don't know what to—"

"I assure you, it's nothing. I'm glad to be able to help." Then, smiling, he continued on his way and left Éponine standing there, holding the coin purse.

This might have been a change of luck for Éponine, were it not for her next encounter. Walking back to her apartment, she passed through an alleyway. The sun had begun to set and it was dark, otherwise she might have been able to dodge him. As it was, she found herself pinned to the wall by none other than her own father. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"What do you want?" She spat.

"What's mine. Yer comin' 'ome."

"No, actually, I'm not."

"Then yeh can give me all the money yeh have. 'And it over."

"Why would I do that?"

Thénardier laughed. "Don't you remember the las' time yeh tried to go against me? This time yeh might not be so lucky. C'mon now."

She spat at him and he punched her in the face. Then he dug his hand into her skirt pocket and grabbed her newly acquired coin purse. He greedily opened it and laughed when he saw the amount inside. "This'll do nicely."

"Give that back!" She made a grab for it, but he pressed his forearm against her throat and she started to choke.

"Yeh may think yeh can do as yeh please, now that yer out. Yer wrong, kid. Yeh'll always belong to me." He released her and she fell to the ground. He left, laughing darkly, and Éponine knew she'd be sleeping on the streets for Christmas.


	7. Chapter 7

The very next day after her encounter with her father, Éponine was kicked out of her apartment for failing to pay the rent in full. The landlord had kept the four francs and tossed her outside in the cold anyway. For about an hour or two after she was turned out, she wandered about aimlessly. Then, deciding that no good would come from losing hope, she went in search of a new job. Unfortunately for her, every shop and café turned her away the moment they caught sight of her. It seemed no one wanted to hire a gutter rat and, that night, she slept under the Pont Neuf, right next to the Seine. It was bitterly cold, but at the very least it was shelter from the snow which had begun to fall.

She didn't have a coat. Only a hat, a holey and dirt-stained shirt, a skirt that was too big with an old belt to hold it up, and her boots. She wore her mahogany hair down in hopes that it would at least keep her ears and neck warm. She curled up on the cold concrete and closed her eyes, but her own shivering kept her awake most of the night. At some point, she must have fallen asleep because she dreamed about falling down, down, down...

When she awoke, it was to the sound of church bells ringing and carolers singing. Slowly sitting up, Éponine found that she ached all over. She couldn't recall ever having a worse Christmas. Then her eyes widened as she recalled that Marius had said he would visit her in her apartment on Christmas Day, and she wouldn't be there. She had no idea what time it was, but it must have been early still as the sun hadn't fully risen.

Getting to her feet, she started in the direction of her former apartment. If she was lucky, she could meet him outside the building and come up with some excuse as for why they couldn't go inside. She walked quickly, trying to warm herself. She couldn't stop shivering and it felt hard to move, but she pushed on. When she arrived at the building, she sat down on a bench that was just outside and waited. She had started to fall asleep again when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She opened her eyes and there stood a frowning Marius, holding a package. He set it down and took her hands in his own.

"'Ponine, you're freezing! How long have you been sitting out here?"

"Mm, probably only an hour. My neighbours are being really loud," she lied. "Can we—"

"What happened to your face?"

"Huh?"

"There's a bruise. Did... Did someone hit you?"

"Oh, it was just—"

"We'll talk about that in a moment," he said quickly. "Let's get you out of the cold."

She shakily stood. "Not my apartment though. The neighbours are fighting; I'd rather go somewhere else."

"Then we'll go somewhere else. But first, I'd like you to open this." He handed her the package.

A smile tugged at her lips. "I thought we said no gifts." But she started to open it anyway. Inside was a long, brown trench coat. Her jaw dropped open. "It... It's perfect! Just what I needed, actually. Oh, Marius... Thank you!"

Marius smiled softly. "Please put it on. You're shivering."

She didn't need telling twice and quickly wrapped the coat around herself. "It's so warm," she murmured. This would certainly make being homeless a bit easier or at least a bit warmer.

"It looks great on you," he told her. She smiled and took his arm. "Where shall we go?" He asked her.

"Mm... The Musain?"

"The Musain, it is. By the way, Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Marius."

...

The Musain was fairly empty with it being Christmas Day. Éponine liked when the café was on the emptier side. It allowed for more intimate conversations, without having to speak over other customers. Marius and Éponine found a table towards the back of the café and sat down.

"I'm buying you some soup," Marius told her. "No, don't argue. You can't stop me." And before she could protest, he flagged down one of the waitresses and ordered some soup and some tea.

"You didn't have to do that," Éponine murmured, "but thank you."

"Anytime," he replied with a smile. "So, how's the job going? You're working at a dress shop, right?"

"Right. It's going great," she said without meeting his eyes. "The other girls who work there are really nice. One of them even gave me a book of sewing patterns. It was dead useful."

"Was?"

"Well, I'm a lot better now so I don't need it as much."

Marius studied her for a moment. He took in her unkempt hair and blue-tinged lips, as well as the tiredness in her large eyes. He took her hands, which were still rather cold. "Are you sure everything is going okay? You look somewhat unwell."

"Oh, I think I might be catching a cold," she said, waving it off. "It's nothing, really. Don't worry about me. Honestly, I'm doing much better than I was with my parents."

"Well, I'm glad to hear it! Ah, look: here's the soup."

The waitress set down her tray, and placed two bowls of soup and two cups of tea in front of them. Marius thanked her and she left. Éponine pulled her bowl of soup towards her and forced herself to eat it slowly, despite how ravenously hungry she felt.

"Oh God, that's good," she murmured. Marius didn't eat, but merely watched her. When she finished her bowl, he pushed his towards her. Seeing that she was about to protest, he told her:

"No, really, go ahead. I've already eaten."

Normally, she would have objected, but she was too hungry to bother and immediately started on the second bowl. In truth, Marius was worried about her. She was thinner, paler, and he wasn't entirely sure he believed her when she said everything was fine. There was also the matter of the bruise.

"So what happened with...?" He gestured towards the bruise over her left eye.

"Got into a bit of an argument with some drunkard," she said dismissively. "It's nothing. It'll heal."

"If you're sure..." But still, he wasn't really sure he believed her. At the same time though, he wasn't really sure how to help her when she seemed intent on not accepting anyone's help. How could he help someone who didn't want to be helped? Still, he felt responsible for her in a way. He knew that there were very few people who truly cared about her, and even fewer who could actually afford to help her out. He worried that living in such abject poverty would eventually lead to her falling ill, and if she couldn't afford decent medical care then it was very possible that she could die.

"What're you thinking about, Monsieur Marius?" She asked him.

"You," he admitted unabashedly.

Éponine felt her cheeks redden. "Me?"

"I'm worried about you. I'm worried you're not telling me the whole truth about... Well, I don't really know. Are you sure everything is okay?"

And for a moment, she considered telling him everything. Only for a moment though and then that moment had passed. She couldn't tell him. She would get through this on her own. She would at least try, anyway. If Marius found out that she was with child—his child—she felt certain that he would cease to function. It would break him, especially with his ideas of ideal love and family. No, she would keep this to herself. He would find out in time about the child, especially since she would eventually start to look pregnant. _But_, she told herself,_ that's only if you're actually pregnant. You might be wrong about this_. Anyway, now was not the time for this discussion.

"Really, I'm fine," she told him. "You worry too much."

"With good reason."

"Maybe," she replied, "but still too much, all the same."

"Just know that you can always turn to me, should you need someone to turn to."

"I know that, Marius."

"Then please make use of it. Make use of me; let me help you, my friend."

She smiled a smile that didn't quite touch her eyes. "I'm trying to be independent, Marius."

"You've had to be independent for most of your life. It's okay to rely on other people."

"For you, maybe. Things are different for people like me."

"I don't see why they have to be."

"No, you wouldn't," she murmured. "You really wouldn't. Look, just have some faith in me, okay? I know my way around."

"I do have faith in you," he told her earnestly, "but I also worry. I can tell you're not getting enough to eat."

"I get enough to survive. That's enough for me."

"'Ponine..."

"Marius. Really, trust me. I'll be all right."


	8. Chapter 8

It was March before Marius and Éponine next saw each other. Things were not going very well for Éponine. She had continued to sleep under the Pont Neuf and while the coat Marius had given her shielded her somewhat from the harsh winds, the coldness of the winter seeped right into her bones and she soon found herself very sick indeed. Most days, she barely even moved from where she lay curled up on the stone. She had considered turning to Marius for help some three weeks ago, but when she had gone to the Gorbeau House, she had found that he had moved and that her family seemed to be gone as well. She didn't know what had happened and for the first time in awhile, she felt really and truly alone.

She knew now that she was pregnant. She knew it and despised it, but there wasn't much she could do about it. She couldn't afford any of those remedies from the apothecary that were said to terminate pregnancies. At this rate, she felt certain she'd die of starvation or hypothermia before ever giving birth. She was surprised she hadn't already miscarried; she knew she was fading away, and she had given up the fight. Death would be sweet.

She had started to show rather early. This, she figured, was due to undernourishment; it made the hateful bump more prominent because she was so thin everywhere else. She knew she couldn't go on much longer like this. The past few days, she had begun to cease caring. Everything felt hazy. The cold nipped at her cheeks and legs, but she no longer felt it. She hadn't shivered at all that day and the faint part of her that was still mentally present was fairly sure that her body was shutting down. She hadn't eaten in just over a week and the hunger pains were becoming unbearable, such that at night she couldn't help but cry out from the pain of it. That night, the pain was particularly bad and she couldn't help but cry.

She tried to retreat to her happy place. She closed her eyes and tried to picture Marius: his emerald eyes, his messy hair, his freckles... but it was getting harder and harder to do, harder to escape from the harsh reality that was her life. Usually, with the mix of pain and delirium, if she could recall him to her mind, then when she opened her eyes he would be there. There only for her. This night, however, she found she could not recall Marius's face and it made starving all the more agonising. She let out a particularly pitiful wail and buried her face in her hands.

"C-Come back..." she moaned. "D-Don' leave me h-here t'die alone..." She reached out for him, but of course he wasn't there, had never been there. "H-Hold me... P-Please come back..." Tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Hello?" came a soft voice. "Is there someone down there?"

Éponine's eyes widened. "Marius..." she breathed. "Find me... Find me... Dear god, find me... I'll be good. W-Won't make no more trouble..."

But it wasn't Marius. She heard footsteps approaching, but she lacked the strength to raise her head to look. _If it's not Marius_, she thought, _let it be death_.

It wasn't death either. It was Jean Prouvaire. He had been out for a nighttime stroll and had heard her pained cries. Taught by his parents to always help others if he could, he had come to investigate and it was he who gently laid a hand upon the bony shoulder, and he who gently rolled Éponine onto her side so that he could see who it was. He gasped when the moonlight caught the gaunt face.

"Éponine!" he gasped. "My god..."

Her eyes wouldn't focus on him and kept shutting. It seemed a struggle for her to open them each time. "Y-You... Y-You're not Marius..."

He stooped to lift her from the ground and found that it was much too easy to do so. Jehan was not particularly strong in terms of upper body strength, but Éponine was several pounds lighter than she ought to have been. Yet her stubborn nature was determined to make this difficult and she squirmed so much that he dropped her, managing only to slip a hand under her head before it hit the concrete.

"D-Don't wanna..." She moaned. "Lemme die... Please god, I want to die..."

"Shh," Jehan hushed her. "Hey, you're going to be okay now. Let me help you."

"M-Marius!" She cried in anguish.

"I can bring him to you," he promised her. "But you need to let me help you."

She paused and for the briefest of moments, her eyes fixed themselves on his. "B-Bring Marius?"

"Yes."

She gave a feeble nod and allowed him to pick her up again. He held her close to him and carried her out from under the bridge and up the steep stairs leading to the quai de Conti. He carried her all the way to his apartment on the Boulevard Saint-Germain. Being from a rather wealthy family, Jehan lived in a very nice, very expensive apartment building. Éponine normally would have commented on this, but at the moment she took no notice at all. All she was really aware of was that one moment she was in Prouvaire's arms and the next in a very soft bed.

"I'll heat some water for a bath," he told her. "You stay there; I'll be right back."

It took him maybe a quarter of an hour to prepare the bath. When he returned to Éponine's side, she was shivering rather violently. All thoughts of propriety went out the window when he saw her and he wordlessly stripped her of her freezing clothes, trying his best not to really look at her, and then carried her to the bath and set her down inside it. The shivering slowly subsided and he thought she was beginning to relax a bit in the warmth of the water. He gently washed her hair for her and stayed with her while she soaked. Only when the water was starting to cool did he lift her back out. She barely even seemed aware of him and she kept mumbling to herself. He dried her off and fetched her one of his own nightgowns, and then helped her into it.

"Marius..." she mumbled distantly.

"Yes, soon," he promised her as he helped her into his bed and wrapped the blankets around her. He pressed a hand to her forehead. "You're burning up... I'm going to make you some soup."

"Nnn... Marius..."

"You'll see him just as soon as you eat."

"N-No, s'over there..."

"Sorry?"

"D-Don't... Don't forget it..."

"... I'll bring you some soup." And he left to prepare some for her.

When he returned, she was half asleep and muttering incoherently. He gently shook her shoulder. "Mademoiselle? Come now, it's time to eat." She tried to reach for the bowl and nearly knocked it out of his hands. "I'll help you with this as well. Just open your mouth. Yes, that's it." He spoon-fed her the soup and when she finished, he was about to ask her if she wanted more, but she fell asleep almost instantly. He watched her for about a half hour to make sure she wasn't going anywhere, during which she kept mumbling Marius's name in her sleep. When he was certain she was deeply asleep, he went to send for Marius.

Finding a gamin out in the street, he offered the boy a solid five francs if he could fetch Marius as quickly as possible, as well as Combeferre. He gave him the addresses and the boy offered a two finger salute before hurrying off. Jehan returned to Éponine's side. She was tossing and turning now, clearly not very restful. Jehan bit his lip and hoped that help would come soon. Within another half hour, Marius was knocking at his apartment door.


	9. Chapter 9

Jean Prouvaire hastened to his front door when he heard the knocking. _Please be Combeferre_, he thought. He opened the door to see Marius's anxious face peering back at him. He stepped aside to let him enter.

"Jehan, what's going on? That little boy said to get here as quickly as I could, that it was urgent. Are you all right? Are you in some sort of legal trouble? I'm not a full lawyer yet, you know, but I could try to help you if you—"

"No, no. It's nothing like that," Prouvaire cut him off. "It's... It's Éponine."

"Éponine? You found her? Oh, thank god! Where was she? Can I see her?"

"I found her under the Pont Neuf. I think she's been living there. Marius, she—"

"Living there? I... I knew she was no longer at that apartment, but I didn't think... My god... How long do you think she's been homeless? It would have to at least be a few weeks; she wasn't at her apartment when I went to call on her. I figured she might have just moved, maybe to be closer to her work. The Pont Neuf... Is she—"

"Marius," Prouvaire said in a somewhat louder voice. Marius fell silent. "She's very sick," he told him quietly. "She... She might even be dying."

"Dying?" Marius choked. "N-No..."

"I really can't be sure," he admitted. "I've sent for Combeferre as well. I'm hoping he'll be here soon. But Marius, she... she was just so out of it. I don't think she recognised me and she just kept calling out for you."

"For me?"

Prouvaire nodded. "She's dangerously thin and pale and weak... and her stomach's distended. I'm not a doctor of course, but I'm worried about what that might mean. I fed her a bowl of soup. I don't know when she last ate. She... She was begging for death."

Marius staggered slightly. All colour had drained from his face. "Can I see her?"

"She's in my bedroom. Come along." And Prouvaire led him to his room.

Éponine was still asleep in bed, though sleeping quite fitfully. Her breathing sounded laboured, and she kept jerking and twitching. Still she continued to mumble Marius's name and her skeletal fingers grasped the bed sheets tightly. Her forehead was beaded with an icy sweat and her complexion was stark white. Occasionally, she would cough, deep and wracking coughs that shook her entire frame, but did not wake her. Marius hurried to her and grasped one of her hands tenderly in both of his own.

Prouvaire disappeared for a moment and returned with a bowl of water and a sponge. He dipped the sponge into the water and started to dab Éponine's forehead with it.

"Here," Marius murmured, "let me." Prouvaire passed him the sponge and water, and Marius took over. Just then, there came more knocking at the front door and Prouvaire ran to answer it.

"Combeferre. Thank god," Jehan breathed when he opened the door. Combeferre stepped inside and Jehan filled him in on what was going on. "What do you think it might be?" He asked him. "The fever, the distended stomach..."

"The distended stomach could just be from malnutrition," Combeferre told him, "but it might be something more sinister. It... It is possible that it could be cancer. But I'll have to examine her. I brought my medical bag; I have everything I need. Lead the way."

Prouvaire did as told and brought Combeferre to his room. Combeferre set his bag down on the foot of the bed and opened it. He pulled out a thermometer and something that looked sort of like an ear trumpet, but was actually a fairly new invention from some sixteen years prior called the stethoscope. He started by checking her temperature, since it would take a little while to get a reading. Then he pressed one end of the stethoscope to her chest and the other to his ear. He took out his pocketwatch and watched it as he listened.

"115 beats per minute. That's very fast, especially since she's sleeping." He lowered the stethoscope slightly to listen to her lungs. "Considerable crackling in both lungs. That leads me to believe it's pneumonia." He set the stethoscope down for a moment and gently felt Éponine's stomach. Then he picked up the stethoscope again and pressed it to her stomach. He closed his eyes and focused on just listening. He wasn't sure what exactly he was expecting, but then a soft 'ah' escaped him. "Jehan, listen to this."

Prouvaire's brow furrowed in confusion, but he stepped forward and pressed his ear to the stethoscope. "I don't hear anything."

"Listen very closely."

Prouvaire did just as Combeferre had and closed his eyes. Then he opened them. "It sounds like... fluttering?"

Combeferre listened again and kept track of the rate of the fluttering with his pocketwatch. Then, seeming to come to a conclusion, he straightened and put the stethoscope away. "I believe Mademoiselle Thénardier is with child."

Prouvaire's eyes widened and flickered briefly to Marius. "She's... ah..."

Marius was staring at Éponine as though he had never seen her before. "She didn't tell me," he murmured. "I... I could have helped her..."

"Right now, that's not the thing to worry about. To treat pneumonia, our options are bloodletting, cinchona bark for the fever, and honey garlic tea to suppress coughing. Prouvaire, could you—"

"I'll run to the apothecary. What do you need for the bloodletting?"

"Leeches."

Prouvaire nodded and hurried off. Marius just kept staring at Éponine. His eyes kept moving to her stomach, despite the fact that he was trying not to look. Dutifully, he continued to sponge her forehead. About ten minutes later, Combeferre checked the thermometer, which was now giving a reading of 41 degrees celsius. This was much too high and Combeferre was worried she might begin to seize if they couldn't lower it quickly enough.

Sure enough, no sooner had he thought it did she begin to jerk and spasm uncontrollably. Marius jumped back in shock, but Combeferre rushed forward to roll her onto her side. It was very quick, less than a minute and she was done. She became very still and then she started to vomit. Marius pulled her hair back and Combeferre made sure her airways remained clear. When the vomiting had stopped, Combeferre went in search of a cloth to clean her up. Prouvaire returned just as he was finishing wiping her face and the sheets. He looked back and forth between Marius, who was white as a sheet; Combeferre, who was just setting the cloth down; and Éponine, who had remained asleep through all of it.

"What happened?" He asked.

"Éponine... she... she just started sh-shaking..." Marius stammered.

"She had a febrile seizure," Combeferre explained. "It's because of the fever. It's her body fighting against it. Don't worry; we have what we need to help her now."

"Marius, come with me," Prouvaire said gently. "I'll make you some tea and we'll let Combeferre do what he needs to do."

Marius merely nodded and followed Prouvaire out of the room and into the kitchen. Prouvaire lit a fire under his wood-burning stove and set a kettle upon it. He bade Marius sit down at the table, and then sat down across from him.

"Deep breaths, Marius. Come on, follow my lead."

After a few minutes of following Prouvaire's breathing, Marius did start to feel a bit better. It helped that there were flowers all around and when he inhaled, the sweet scent of a well-cared-for garden greeted him. The kettle started to whistle and Prouvaire stood to pour the tea. He then set a cup in front of Marius and, with his own cup, sat down across from him once more.

"Did... Did Éponine mention anything at all about... about..." Marius started to ask, but Prouvaire shook his head.

"Hardly anything she said was intelligible. Mostly, she just said your name. She wasn't going to let me bring her here until I promised I would bring you to her."

"I'll never leave her side again," Marius vowed. "She... I wish she had come to me. This could have been avoided. What if... What if she doesn't get better? I couldn't bear losing her. She's my best friend."

"I know," Prouvaire murmured, "but we have to have faith that she'll pull through. And when she wakes, you must not let her see your doubts. She needs to believe she'll live too. When a person gives up hope of recovery, it... it goes downhill fast. That's how it was with my mother."

"I'm sorry, Jehan. I didn't know."

"It's all right. It was years ago. But I'm telling you this for a reason: if you want her to recover, you need to make her believe that she can."

"Right. Of course. I... I can do that."

A/N: I wasn't expecting to have to do research for this chapter, but medicine has certainly come a long way from the 1800s. The stethoscope from 1829 is really weird looking and the treatments for infections were not great before antibiotics. It was interesting to research all the same though.


	10. Chapter 10

It was hard to tell yet whether Éponine stood much chance of survival. Combeferre had done all he could for her and, indeed, just as much as any practised doctor could have done. Now they could only wait with baited breath for the tides to turn.

It had been three days since Prouvaire had found her and Marius refused to leave her side. He sat by her day in and day out, refusing even to sleep at night for fear that something might happen. Prouvaire, therefore, tasked himself with bringing meals to them. Éponine required help with just about everything, but Marius was more than up to the task. She was still mostly delirious with fever and most of the time, she slept. She could only sleep for a few hours at a time, however, and then she would wake herself up with the terrible coughing and rattled her chest. When awake, it seemed hard for her to focus on anything and her eyes would only rove. She would mumble nonsensically and the only thing that she would say that made any sense was Marius's name, though she didn't really seem to be aware that he was there with her.

Right now, however, she seemed to be having some sort of fit. She was refusing to eat and couldn't seem to stop crying. She was inconsolable and no matter what Marius did, he was quite unable to help her. She had been like this since she had woken up in the morning. Marius tried to feel her forehead, but she smacked his hand away. Even so, he was fairly sure her temperature had spiked. Prouvaire had gone to get Combeferre and in the meantime, Marius was at a complete loss for what to do.

"Marius!" Éponine wailed.

"I'm right here," he murmured, but she didn't seem to hear him.

"Marius!" She cried again. She reached up and started clawing at her own face, but Marius swiftly grabbed her wrists. She struggled against him, but he kept his grip firm. "No! No! Give'm back!" She sobbed, deep and gasping sobs that wracked her entire body. "Help! Help! Marius!"

"I'm right here, 'Ponine. You need to calm down."

"Kill me," she moaned. "I want to die..."

"Don't say that."

"Please... He's gone... He left..."

"I'm right here," he said again. He released her wrists and gently grasped her face in both hands. "Look at me." But it seemed she was determined to look anywhere else. He moved her face towards his. "Look at me," he repeated softly, and finally her eyes locked on his. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, like a wounded animal. "I'm right here, 'Ponine. I'm not going anywhere." Tears rolled down her cheeks, but recognition flickered in her eyes. "I'm here," he murmured soothingly. Slowly, faintly, she nodded and he pressed her to his chest. Her thin arms wrapped around him, clinging to him for dear life. She closed her eyes and, listening to his steady heartbeat, started to calm. Her breathing slowed and only a few stray tears fell from her eyes now. Marius rubbed soothing circles into her back and Éponine started to fall asleep. Before sleep could claim her, however, four words escaped her chapped lips:

"I love you, Marius..." And then she succumbed to the realm of sleep.

Marius could only stare down at the sleeping woman in his arms. Her words reverberated in his head. _She... loves me?_ Could he have misheard? He must have done. Either that, or it was just the fever that had made her say it. There was no way she loved him. _Or_, he tried to reason, _or she loves me as a friend. I love her as a friend, don't I? That must be it, surely._ He was wrong, but there was a part of him that was determined not to consider that that could be the case. He didn't want to think about what it could mean if his best friend was in love him because he wasn't really sure how he felt himself. Regardless, he stayed with her and held her as she slept. Perhaps because of this, she seemed to be sleeping much more restfully than she had been.

When Prouvaire returned with Combeferre, he found both of them asleep on the bed, still holding onto each other. He smiled warmly at the sight and pulled the blankets up around them.

"Combeferre, come look at this," he softly called out. Combeferre entered the bedroom and gave a small chuckle.

"Well, it would seem Marius has solved the issue, and it's good that he's finally getting some sleep as well. I think we should leave them, for the time being. If you'd like, I can hang around until she wakes up. I can check on her then."

"Yes, please," said Jehan. "I'd still like to make sure she's all right. It was really scary seeing her like that. I didn't know fever could do that. That was more than just being kind of out of it. She was swatting at anyone who approached her. She caught Marius in the eye; I'm surprised he doesn't have a bruise."

Combeferre smiled wryly. "Well, it's as Courfeyrac said: Marius has an incredibly thick skull."

Prouvaire laughed. "He may have had a point. Come on, I'll make us some tea."

Combeferre followed him into the kitchen and Prouvaire set about making the tea. Combeferre sat down at the table.

"So," Prouvaire said, sitting down across from him while he waited for the water to boil, "how did that exam of yours go? You should have your marks by now, yes?"

"Oh, yes," said Combeferre. "It went much better than I could have hoped. I was worried I'd fail, but I didn't."

"How'd you do?"

Combeferre's cheeks went a little pink. "Full marks."

"Full marks? That's wonderful. Congratulations! And you thought you'd fail."

Combeferre smiled. "That's usually the way, at least for me. The moment I leave the exam room, I'm thinking about all the questions I wasn't really sure about. Then I start thinking about the ones I'm fairly sure I got right and I try to figure out whether it was enough to pass. Then even if I logically know that I probably didn't fail, I worry that I've done terribly and that maybe I don't know as much as I thought I did."

"Ah, the life of a student. It's the same for me, though my exams probably aren't as intense as yours. With me, it's usually when it comes to the Latin texts that I start to worry. There'll be words that I think I know the meaning of, but then it's similar to a different word and I start to get confused. Italian is much easier though. The language is structured in such a way that it's actually fairly easy to learn, I find."

"That's good," Combeferre said. "I'm glad it's working out for you."

"Indeed. Oh, the tea is ready."

...

Combeferre did wait around for a few hours, but it eventually became evident that Éponine would not be waking up anytime soon and he returned home. Marius awoke just as the sun was going down, but found himself quite unable to move as Éponine was more or less draped across him. Seeing how comfortable she looked, he didn't have the heart to move and risk disturbing her. Then, as he watched her sleep, the words she had uttered came back to him. _I love you, Marius_. What if it wasn't just the fever? What if she actually did have feelings for him? What was he supposed to do with that information? Would she even remember saying it? Somehow, he doubted it. Perhaps, then, the solution was just to wait and see. If she mentioned it again, then he would figure out what to do about it. Otherwise, there was no sense in dwelling on it. If it had been a mistake or some result of the fever, it would only be embarrassing for her if he brought it up. No, he would wait. He would try not to think about it, push it from his thoughts. What would be, would be.


	11. Chapter 11

Éponine did not wake up the following day. Marius couldn't help but be concerned. She wasn't out of the woods just yet and he didn't like the idea of her missing even more meals. He had continued to hold her until the morning, but when the sun rose he found he needed to relieve himself and grudgingly disentangled himself from her. She, of course, remained asleep and was still asleep when he returned. He pressed a hand to her forehead and frowned when he felt that she still had a very high fever. Naturally, being asleep she couldn't be given the cinchona bark to lower her temperature, so Marius fetched a bowl of water and a sponge, and dabbed at her forehead. It was all he could think to do.

Prouvaire came in around ten o'clock to bring Marius something to eat because he knew that, otherwise, Marius would not eat. He was not willing to leave Éponine's side for longer than he had to. Prouvaire, meanwhile, had been sleeping on the sofa, since Éponine was occupying his bed. He didn't mind though; the sofa was comfortable enough and he just wanted Éponine to recover. He didn't even consider it an inconvenience; he was just happy to be of some help.

Combeferre stopped by around midday to check on Éponine. He wasn't very pleased to find that she had yet to wake and that her fever had spiked again, but apart from sponging her forehead there wasn't much that could be done for it, not when she was sleeping. They had tried to wake her to give her the cinchona bark, but to no avail. She had opened her eyes a fraction of a centimeter, mumbled something unintelligible, and then had gone right back to sleep. Still, her fever continued to climb. Even Combeferre was starting to show concern now, despite his attempts to remain unambiguously calm.

As the day wore on, Marius was starting to feel desperate. Éponine was clearly not improving and he was unable to cope with this. He sat in a chair next to the bed and held one of her hands in both of his, his head lowered in prayer. Combeferre touched Prouvaire's arm and bade him leave the room with him by a jerking of his head towards the door. Prouvaire followed him out and Combeferre closed the door behind them as quietly as he could so as not to disturb Marius's prayer. He fixed Prouvaire with a somber regard and Prouvaire's face fell.

"She's not going to...?" Jehan started.

"I think... If her fever doesn't go down, there is a chance she might not... I don't know what else to do."

"Should... Should we tell him?"

Combeferre shook his head. "I don't think there's any point. He's already assuming the worst. If we tell him... Well, I really don't know how he would take it. He's already not coping very well. I don't want to break him. We'll know more in the morning. Do you mind if I stay here? If anything changes and there's something I can do, I don't want to miss the opportunity if it could mean saving her life."

"Of course," Prouvaire murmured. "You can sleep on the sofa. I have an extra room where I keep more of my plants; I'll sleep there."

As the night approached though, Prouvaire felt certain that Éponine would be the only one sleeping in the apartment that night. Marius stood vigil by Éponine's side in the exact same position, deep in prayer. His lips moved soundlessly as he begged god not to take her. Combeferre had gone in to check on Éponine again, but otherwise had not disturbed them. He had never seen Marius like this. True, he wasn't particularly close with him and they had even butted heads in political debate on occasion, but Combeferre had never really thought of Marius as the particularly serious type, not like this. But then, perhaps this attested to just how big his heart was and his capacity to feel. Combeferre had never seen such reverence, such tenderness in the way Marius held her hand or sponged her forehead. It was dedication equal to that of Enjolras's to the revolution, and that was saying something. Perhaps Combeferre had misunderstood Marius or otherwise judged him too quickly. Maybe he was a better man than he had originally thought. Combeferre would have to give him more credit in the future.

Prouvaire and Combeferre sat on the sofa all night and spoke in hushed whispers, mostly about what to do if Éponine did not survive. Marius didn't move in the slightest from his position. His neck was cramping and his back ached, but he neither released Éponine's hand nor ceased his prayer. Even as the first rays of sunlight streamed into the room, he did not budge. There was only one thing that could and would rouse him, and it came in the form of a soft, croaky whisper.

"Marius...?"

He raised his head. "'Ponine?"

Her large eyes were open and looking right at him. He jumped to his feet, eyes wide.

"You're awake! You're... You're lucid! Oh, 'Ponine! Oh, thank god..."

Combeferre and Prouvaire came running into the room, and Éponine looked back and forth between them, not fully understanding the situation. Combeferre felt her forehead and then turned to look at Marius and Prouvaire, a relieved smile upon his face.

"Her fever broke."

Marius actually whooped, grabbed Prouvaire and hugged him, then seized Combeferre and hugged him too. Éponine watched all this in wide-eyed amazement. She had the impression that Marius might have pulled her into a hug were it not that she was so fragile at the moment. He returned to her side and grasped her hands. She couldn't help but smile bemusedly.

"What's going on?" She asked.

"I found you under the Pont Neuf," Prouvaire told her. "You were sick and half-starved, so I brought you back here."

"We didn't know if you were going to make it," Marius added. "You were completely out of it and your fever was so high. Oh, but 'Ponine! You're going to live. I'm sure of it now. Oh, thank god..." He gently pulled her into his arms and she rested her head against his shoulder. "How do you feel?" He asked her.

"Like death," she replied. "Or maybe death warmed up a bit." Then she pulled back. "But you!" She smacked his arm, albeit lightly.

"What? What did I do?"

"You moved!"

"I... Oh."

"'Oh,' he says. You told me I could go to you for help and when I did, you were gone."

His face fell. "Oh, 'Ponine... I'm so sorry! I didn't even think... I— but you didn't tell me you moved either."

"Yeah, well it's a little embarrassing when you're homeless. And do you know where my family went? They're not at the Gorbeau House either."

"Ah. Right. They're in jail."

"What?"

Marius sighed. "They invited a man in, a rich man. They tried to swindle him. Your father had that gang with him."

"The Patron Minette... They tolerate him at the best of times. It must have been a really wealthy man for them to get involved."

"It was that Monsieur Leblanc, from when we used to go to the Luxembourg Gardens. Anyway, they were trying to rob him when that police inspector came in. Javert, I think? He told one of them not to fire his gun because it would misfire and it did, and then he was able to get the advantage on them. Meanwhile, Monsieur Leblanc escaped out the window."

"How do you know all this?"

He blushed faintly. "There's a hole in the wall between the two apartments. I noticed it when dusting my bookshelf. Anyway, after that I decided to move. Your father is pretty dangerous, isn't he? I moved in with Courfeyrac. I heard afterwards that they were all arrested, even Azelma. I'm sorry. There was nothing I could do."

"Azelma..."

"I'm sorry, 'Ponine."

"Do you know where they're being kept?"

"I don't."

Éponine fell silent. Prison was no place for a girl as young as Azelma. How long could she survive in such conditions? How long before she succumbed to illness? Marius put a hand on her shoulder.

"It'll be all right. We'll find out which prison and... and I can be Azelma's lawyer. Guaranteed she was coerced into participating by your father. Surely, there's some argument to be made in her defense. We'll figure this out."

"I... I hope you're right."


	12. Chapter 12

It turned out, there was no need for Marius's legal counsel. The following week, Gavroche stopped by to tell Éponine that Montparnasse had enlisted his help in freeing the Patron Minette, as well as Thénardier and Azelma. They had made quick work of it and now all of the aforementioned were once again free to roam the streets of Paris.

"What about maman?" Éponine asked.

"Ah, well... Yeah, she didn't make it," Gavroche replied. "Died in prison. Serves 'er right."

Éponine's eyes widened. "'Zelma is alone with father..."

"She looked all right though. Trust me, she can 'andle 'erself, 'Ponine. Tell you what: I'll check in on 'er. It'll be okay. Trust good ol' Gavroche."

A slight smile tugged at her pale lips. "All right, but you'd better tell me if something's wrong."

"Will do." He gave a small salute. "Anyway, I'd better get back to me kids."

"I'm sorry, your what?"

Gavroche chuckled. "I beat you to it, 'Ponine," he said with a glance at her stomach. "Found meself two kids to take care of. I found two small boys who looked 'alf starved, diggin' 'round in a trash can, so I took 'em in. They stay in the elephant with me. Strange though. Kinda feels like I already knew 'em. Guess it was meant to be."

"Papa Gavroche," Éponine said with a wry smile. "Soon you'll be Uncle Gavroche as well."

"Y'know, ya never told me who the pops is."

Éponine's eyes flickered to Marius, who was leaning against the door frame.

"It's... complicated," she said. "I'll probably just do the thing alone."

Gavroche shrugged. "Not necessarily a bad idea. Sometimes no father is better than a bad one. Jus' look at our old man. Anyway, yeh'll 'ave my support. I ought to go now though. David an' Paul are waiting for dinner, an' I hate to disappoint."

"I'll see you around, 'Roche."

"See ya!" And the little sprite left. Marius took his place in the chair next to the bed and reached for one of Éponine's hands.

"'Ponine..."

She frowned. "Why so serious, Marius?"

"I also want to ask you... Who is the father? Did... Did someone hurt you?"

Éponine closed her eyes for a moment. "No, Marius. No, it's nothing like that."

"You... Your father, he didn't make you...?"

"I didn't let him send me to the docks." She sighed heavily. "That's actually... The night you found me at the foot of the stairs, he tried to send me there. He beat me and kicked me out, and then when I was halfway down the stairs I got dizzy and fainted. I... I'm sorry I lied."

Marius gasped and jumped to his feet. "He beat you? I... I'll kill him!"

"Oh, relax. Please. It's not like it was the first time, but it will be the last. Sit back down, Marius. It isn't worth getting into it with my father."

Marius sat back down and took her hand again. He tried to regain composure by taking a few deep breaths. "Then... If that wasn't it, then who...?"

"It... Look, it was just a one time thing," she admitted. "A mistake, really. The father doesn't know. He doesn't ever need to know. I can do this on my own. He doesn't even remember."

Marius's expression softened. "Oh, 'Ponine..." He squeezed her hand. "But don't you think you should tell him? Won't he want to meet his child once it's born? Or... Or would he be a bad father, as Gavroche mentioned, who isn't worth knowing?"

"No, he'd probably be a very good father, but... I can't tell him. I just can't."

"I know I'm probably prying right now, but I think you should at least consider it. You're a wonderful woman, 'Ponine, and I know you'll make a great mother. Any man would be lucky to be with you and father your child. Whomever this man is, I feel you should give him that chance."

Tears pricked at Éponine's eyes. "I'm not... I... I don't know how... h-how to..." And then quite suddenly she was bawling. Marius actually jumped slightly, but quickly recovered and pulled her into his arms. "I d-d-don't know h-how to be a m-mom, Marius."

He gently stroked her hair. "Hey, shh, it's okay," he murmured. "No one knows how at first, Éponine. You'll learn, and I'll be right by your side to help you. Don't you worry one bit, 'Ponine. You don't have to do this alone. I'll help, and Gavroche will help. I'm sure Prouvaire would too, and Combeferre. I'm not sure Enjolras knows what a baby is, but it could be funny to watch him trying to talk to one."

A small giggle escaped her lips. "He'd probably talk to it like an adult."

"_How do you do, small citizen?_" Marius tried his best to imitate Enjolras's very proper way of speaking. Éponine laughed again and buried her face in Marius's shoulder. He gave her a small squeeze and her tears slowed to a stop.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she told him.

"Well, you'll never have to find out. I'll always be here for you, 'Ponine. Always."

"You'd better be."

He smiled. "Where would I go? All of the most wonderful things are already a part of my life. I have an interesting job that will help me pay for my schooling, I have amazing comrades at the Musain, and the best friend I could ever ask for. What more could I possibly need?"

Éponine smiled, but it didn't quite touch her eyes. She knew what was missing from his life and what he was bound to find in someone else: love. One day, he would marry and then she would lose him.

"You still look sad," he told her. "Tell you what, the weather is getting nicer and the flowers have started to bloom. Tomorrow, after my classes are through, how about I come get you and then we can go for a walk in the Luxembourg Gardens, like old times? Just you and I."

"I... I'd like that."

...

Later, after Marius had gone, Prouvaire helped Éponine to settle on the sofa as she wanted a change of scenery. He sat down next to her and bit his lip.

"What is it?" Éponine asked him. She could tell he had something to say.

"I'll just come right out and say it: I think you should tell Marius."

She looked away. "I can't."

"You're worried about rejection, I know. But Éponine, you just don't understand. You didn't see how he was when you were ill. He wouldn't leave your side, night or day. He refused to sleep because he was worried something might happen. He probably wouldn't have eaten either if I hadn't made him. He stayed with you and took care of you. For those four days, you were all he could think about. I've never seen him like that. And during the worst of it when even Combeferre had begun to lose hope, Marius sat next to you, holding your hands, and he prayed. He prayed all night and probably would have continued if you hadn't woken up. He might not realise that he loves you, but I think at least part of him does, and I think you're doing him a disservice by not telling him."

Éponine was silent for several moments. "You... You really think he might love me?"

"I think it's more than possible. I think you need to tell him everything and see what happens. Surely that would be better than never knowing, and we both know he would be a good father. He might be a bit clueless, but his heart is always in the right place."

"I... We're going to the Luxembourg Gardens tomorrow. I... I think you're right, Jehan. I'm going to tell him, tell him everything. Do... Do you think this is the path to happiness?"

"'Ponine, I truly do."

The smile that spread across her face could have lit up all of Paris.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: Sorry for the delay! I started classes again and then I sustained a concussion and was out of commission for a week.

* * *

Éponine awoke early the next day in anticipation for her walk with Marius in the Luxembourg Gardens. She tried her best to make herself look presentable. Prouvaire prepared a bath for her and then left to find them some breakfast. Éponine climbed in and took a moment to just relax in the warm water before beginning to bathe. She felt her tensed shoulders loosen as she inhaled the fragrant, flowery soap, and she began to attempt to detangle her hair using her fingers. It took a bit of doing, but slowly she was able to remove most of the knots in her thick tresses. This done, she leaned back and sank further down into the water.

Today she would tell him. She would finally tell Marius everything: how she felt about him, that night back in the Gorbeau House, and the baby. The baby... She hoped he wouldn't panic too much, but she was fairly certain that he would panic. She couldn't really blame him either; it was a bit of a bombshell. She just hoped he would understand why she hadn't told him earlier. She hoped he would feel the same way as she felt. A small voice in the back of her head made her wonder whether he really could love her. After all she had experienced in life, all she had done and the lowliness to which she had on occasion stooped... Could anyone love her? Was she worthy of love? Worthy of Marius's? _But surely_, she told herself, _if anyone could possibly love me, it would be him._ Marius had never looked down on her, had never considered her to be a lesser being due to her parentage or social class. She had only ever known him to exemplify kindness in a cruel and unforgiving world. She tried to reassure herself that they had had moments, apart from their drunken night of passion. Hadn't Prouvaire told her of his dedication to her when she was sick? Couldn't that be love? She so wanted to believe that it could be, yet she couldn't help feeling nervous. What if he rejected her?

"No," she said aloud. _If I think that way, I'll never summon the courage to tell him,_ she thought. _I have to believe that he could love me. I need to have faith in love_. Then she scoffed at herself. Faith. It had never done her much good in the past. Had faith saved her parents from the mounting bills and debts in Montfermeil? Had faith saved her family from being turned out onto the streets? Had faith stopped her mother from selling her youngest brothers? Try though she might, she couldn't ease the heavy doubt gathering in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down like a heavy boulder. She couldn't tell him. What if it changed everything? What if it ended a perfectly good friendship?

"Oh, god. I need to stop this..." She buried her face in her hands. _I need to tell him. I can't just live life never knowing. If I never tell him, then eventually I will lose him. If I tell him... If there's even the slightest chance he'll feel the same way..._

Éponine stood, holding onto the side of the tub for support. She carefully got out and began to dry herself with the towel Jehan had left. She had just wrapped it around herself when Jehan returned and Éponine caught a whiff of fresh bread. He set a paper bag down on the table and then, shielding his eyes out of respect for her modesty, he held out a medium-sized white box with a pale blue ribbon.

"What's this?" Éponine asked him, taking the box.

"A gift. Please, open it."

A smile tugged at her lips as she opened the box. Then she gasped and nearly dropped it.

"O-Oh, Jehan! For me?"

Prouvaire smiled. "Yes, for you. Go put it on."

Éponine hurried into the bedroom and closed the door. She set the opened box down on the bed and gingerly pulled out its contents. It was certainly the loveliest thing she now owned: a long, cinched dress with both brown and deep blue layers, with gigot sleeves and a high neckline. It wasn't one of those frilly dresses that the bourgeoise girls liked to wear, which Éponine fully appreciated. Prouvaire must have recognised that that wasn't her style. This was a little more reserved, more serious, but without taking away her youth.

She quickly changed into it and moved to look at herself in the mirror. She almost didn't recognise herself: cleaner than she'd been in years, in a nicer dress than she'd ever hoped to own, and smiling. Really and truly smiling. Confidence had begun to sate the nagging worry of refusal.

She liked that the puffiness of the skirt, though reduced by her lack of a hoop skirt, helped to hide her baby bump.

When she left the bedroom, Prouvaire clapped his hands together at the sight of her.

"You look exquisite!" He exclaimed. "Simply beautiful. Marius is a lucky man."

Éponine made her way over to him and put her arms around him. "Thank you, Jehan. For the dress, for taking care of me, for... for being my friend. For everything." And she kissed his cheek, which made him blush.

"You're very welcome, Éponine," he told her. "I'm always happy to help a friend. Now, come sit with me. Let's have a bite to eat before Monsieur Marius whisks you away."

* * *

Marius arrived a couple hours later. When he knocked on the door, Éponine jumped to her feet and instantly regretted it as the rush of dizziness swept over her. She steadied herself on the table as Prouvaire went to open the door. When Marius stepped inside, it took her every ounce of restraint not to run right over to him. She slowly made her way over to him, a smile spreading across her face at the look of delighted surprise on his face as he took in her appearance.

"Éponine, you look lovely," he told her. She felt a blush rise in her cheeks. He offered her an arm, which she gladly and readily took. "Shall we?" He asked her.

"Let's," she replied, and they were on their way.

It was certainly getting warmer outside as March wore on and signs of Spring's imminent arrival were everywhere. The birds were chirping happily and the sunlight poured onto the streets of Paris, lighting everything in its path. Trees were beginning to form budding leaves and the grass was once again green. Éponine knew that the Luxembourg Gardens must be perfectly picturesque on such a fine day.

As they walked, they chatted jovially. Marius told her about some mishaps he'd had at the university, and how Lesgles had been kicked out of their law class for covering for him during an absence. Marius assured her, however, that Lesgles could not care less and had admitted to Marius that he'd never really wanted to be a lawyer.

"Éponine," he said, suddenly serious, "I wanted to ask you... Just how bad was it? O-On the streets, I mean."

Éponine faltered for a second. "Mostly," she started, "mostly it was cold and... lonely. For the first few weeks, I was able to somewhat sustain myself by stealing, but... it just kept getting colder and... and it was hard to sleep because it was so cold. But the less I slept, the less energy I had and then it became impossible to steal if I didn't want to get caught. I nearly was, about a month in. I barely escaped; I hid in a snow bank. Then it got harder. Hunger pains are just... It's hard to even explain. I was occasionally able to get scraps. Things people had dropped or thrown out... But it wasn't enough and I felt my body giving up. It eventually was too hard to even stand up and I just lay there until Jehan found me."

"Oh, 'Ponine... I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. I... I should have helped you. I promised you I would." He hung his head dejectedly. They had now entered the gardens.

"Marius, it's not your fault. You didn't know how bad things were."

"I'm a terrible friend. I don't understand how you could ever forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive. Marius, you're the best friend I ever could have asked for. I don't even know if I deserve you. You're kind and warm, and... and when I'm with you, I feel... I feel like all the darkness in the world is sucked away and only light remains. Marius, you..." She struggled to find the words. She stared at her feet as she continued forward. "You are everything that is right with the world. You make me forget the sad realities of life. I... What I'm trying to say is... Marius, I lo—" As she raised her eyes to look at him as she made her confession, she suddenly stopped. Marius was no longer beside her; he had stopped walking a little ways back. She turned to see him staring off and made her way back to him, a quizzical expression on her face. "Marius?"

She followed his gaze. Sitting on a park bench was Monsieur Leblanc and next to him... No... It couldn't be... Mademoiselle Lenoire had transformed from an ugly duckling into a majestic swan. Sitting there was a girl of rapturous beauty, with her long chocolatey brown hair hanging in perfect ringlets. Her skin was milky and blemish free, and she wore a pale pink dress with puffed sleeves in the latest fashion, complete with a white bonnet. It was she who had captured Marius's gaze and Éponine recognised the look on his face. It was mirrored on the girl's face, as her large lapis lazuli eyes locked onto Marius's.

"That girl..." He breathed. Éponine felt her world crashing down around her. That look... The way she had often dreamed he would look at her... It was unmistakable.

Then suddenly, pain. Sharp and thrusting pain in her stomach, and Éponine knew she had just experience the baby kicking for her first time. She couldn't stop the cry that fell from her lips, nor could she stop her hand from moving to her stomach.

The cry drew Marius's attention back to Éponine. "'Ponine?" He asked concernedly, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Are you all right?"

"I-I... The... The baby kicked..." She said quietly.

"O-Oh!" His eyes lit up. "Was that the first time? Can I feel?"

"Please don't," she whispered as he reached his hand out. He quickly withdrew it.

"Sorry," he said hastily. "I... I forgot myself. I know you have doubts about all this..."

"It's... It's fine."

He returned his gaze to the bench, but instead saw the retreating forms of the girl and her father as they left the Luxembourg Gardens. He started towards it, and Éponine just stood there numbly. He quickly came running back, waving something white in his hand.

"Her handkerchief," he told her. "_U. F_... It must be her initials. _U. F_... Ursule! That must be her name."

Éponine blinked and looked at him. "What?"

"U. F. Ursule... something."

Despite the consuming pain she felt tearing at her chest, she asked, "Why Ursule?"

"It's the only girls' name that begins with a U."

But it was a different name that had come to Éponine's mind. Old memories now came flooding back... The girl looked so familiar. Surely, it couldn't be... Those eyes that had once been so full of tears...

"Éponine, can you... can you find her for me?"

"I... You want me to..."

"Please, 'Ponine," he begged, and she could hear the desperation in his voice. "I have to meet her. I... I have never felt like this before. I... I'll do anything..."

Éponine couldn't bring herself to answer, so she gave a small nod. He grasped her hand and she felt the coolness of metal press into her skin. She let the coins drop to the ground. "I don't want your money..." she said quietly, but he was staring off in the direction the girl and her father had gone, and didn't seem to hear her.

* * *

Marius had walked Éponine back to the building in which Prouvaire lived, but Éponine had insisted on saying goodbye outside, despite his offer to walk her in. He left and, rather than going inside, Éponine started walking. She wasn't sure of where she was going until she arrived at the apothecary. It seemed her feet had taken her there of their own accord, but she knew all the same it was where she wanted to be. She headed inside and started looking. She knew she would recognise it when she saw it. Then... There it was: diachylon. She had heard other poor women speak of this. She took it in her hands and just stared at it for several minutes. She stole a glance at the owner of the apothecary. He was preoccupied; he wouldn't notice if she downed it real quick... She opened the bottle.

Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and she jumped. She turned around.

"Oh. Combeferre. It's you," she said quietly. He was staring at the bottle in her hands.

"Do you know what that is?" He asked her.

"It'll end it," she said quietly. "It'll make it go away."

"It could kill you in the process," he told her. "It's poison."

"I don't care," she whispered. "I don't care; I want to die." Hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

"Éponine, what has happened?"

"He... H-He..." She choked out. "He'll never love me... I... I see that now..."

"Éponine, what...?"

"I... I s-saw the way he looked at her... I... I was going to tell him everything about me and our baby and... and he... h-he... I-I think he loves her..."

"You..." Then understanding flickered in his eyes. "You love Marius. This is his baby."

She nodded slowly, tears dripping down her chin. "He doesn't love me. He... He loves her. And I... I am nothing." In a swift motion, she made as though to down the contents of the bottle, but Combeferre was faster and knocked it from her hand. It shattered on the floor. Éponine fell to her knees and Combeferre knelt down next to her. "Éponine, this is not the solution. You can't just throw your life away because of a man. Live for yourself, not for him."

"He's all I have... Please... I just want to die..." She sobbed. "Just... Just let me die... Please let this pain end..."

Combeferre sighed softly and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder and cried.


	14. Chapter 14

Combeferre helped Éponine back to Jehan's apartment, one arm wrapped around her to support her, his hands gripping her elbows lest she fall. Éponine was silent, a few stray tears still running down her sallow cheeks. Combeferre glanced at her occasionally. He was thankful that he had caught her before she had taken the diachylon. The base of diachylon was lead and if Éponine had downed the entire bottle as had been her plan, she would have died from lead poisoning. Diachylon, in small amounts, certainly could cause miscarriage while not killing the mother, but Éponine had nearly consumed a lethal amount. What was worrying was that she was not fazed by this in the slightest. Combeferre worried she might make more attempts on her own life. Marius's interest in this new girl had clearly been a blow, but Combeferre was determined to help her find reason to go on living. He was determined to make her see that her life held intrinsic value that had nothing to do with how Marius felt about her.

For now, however, he knew that what she needed was a friend. While he was more than willing to listen to her should she need a sympathetic ear, he knew that Jehan would be much better suited for the task. Jean Prouvaire was most definitely a people person and Combeferre knew that he would be much more comforting. So, he helped Éponine into the apartment building and up the set of stairs that led to Jehan's floor. He knocked on Prouvaire's door and it was almost instantly flung open by an excited Prouvaire, who was eager to hear how things had gone with Marius. When he saw Éponine's dejected figure, however, his expression fell.

"Oh, flower," he murmured, pulling Éponine into a hug. Éponine flung her arms around his neck and dissolved into tears once more. "Mon petit chou, come inside. Tell me all about it." And he led her over to the sofa. She sat down and Prouvaire returned to the door to bid Combeferre farewell. Combeferre gestured for him to follow him into the hallway and Jehan obliged.

"Keep an eye on her," said Combeferre quietly. "She tried to drink an entire bottle of diachylon to induce abortion and it would have killed her. She told me she wants to die."

Prouvaire's eyes widened. "What on earth happened?"

"From what she told me, it would appear that just as she was about to tell Marius her feelings for him, Marius became enamoured with another girl. I don't think he heard her confession, and I don't think she told him the baby is his."

"The poor dear," said Jehan sympathetically. "I'll look after her," he promised. "I'll keep her company."

"She couldn't be in better hands," replied Combeferre. "I'm afraid I have a class to get to. I'll check on her tomorrow."

"All right, I'll see you then."

"See you." With that, Combeferre left and Jehan went back inside.

Jehan approached the sofa where Éponine had curled up into a ball. He sat down next to her and rubbed soothing circles into her back. She didn't look up, but merely continued to cry. Gone were the days when she could wait until she was alone to cry. She was no longer in control of her emotions and she felt ashamed.

"Marius Pontmercy is a complete ass," Jehan told her. "And he isn't worth your tears."

Éponine sat up quickly. "Don't say that about him! He... H-He... didn't hear me. I-It's my fault."

"No, it most certainly is not," he told her firmly. "He should have been listening to you and not looking at other girls. Today was supposed to be about helping you feel better and Marius's focus should have been on you. Don't make excuses for him, Éponine. Be angry and I promise you'll feel at least a little better."

She shook her head. "I can't be angry with him. I... I'm not capable of it."

"Éponine, what exactly happened?"

"I... I was talking to him and... and I was starting to tell him how I felt. I was about to say the words when... wh-when I noticed he wasn't there. He had stopped a little while back and he... h-he was staring at her..."

"Did he talk to her?"

"No, they just... They were just looking at each other."

Prouvaire nearly laughed in relief. "Then I'm sure it's probably nothing. He just happened to see a pretty girl. You've still got a chance."

She shook her head. "No. No, you don't understand. You didn't see the looks on their faces. I know that look. I know what it means. I'm sure it's the look I have on my face when I look at him. It's the way I wish he would look at me. There was this... this burning look in his eyes. It looked as though he could see his entire future in her face, and she was looking at him the exact same way."

"But if they didn't talk, how will he even find her again? No name, no address. Paris is a big city, Éponine."

Éponine laughed miserably. "He asked me to find her."

Prouvaire stared at her for a moment. "Surely, you didn't—"

"I told him I would," and she laughed again. "I'm pathetic. I love him so much and... and I'll do anything to see him happy. This girl... She's his path to happiness. Even if it destroys me, I'm going to help him be with her. I... God, what is wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you," said Prouvaire gently. "You might just be the most generous, self-sacrificing person I know. But Éponine, you deserve happiness too. You're a good person."

"I'm not."

"You are, and I still think you should tell Marius how you feel."

"I won't."

"Éponine..."

"No, Jehan," she said firmly. "You can't convince me this time. I'm not telling him how I feel and he need never know that the baby is his. I'll take the secret to my grave. I... I can't take more heartbreak. I will not be able to withstand it."

"Oh, Éponine," he murmured, and he pulled her into his arms once more. She allowed him to do so and closed her eyes for a long moment.

"I wish... but it will never be..."

"Maybe it could be."

She shook her head. "You didn't see them. You don't understand..."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: Thanks for the encouraging reviews! They inspire me to write more

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For the last two weeks of March, Éponine didn't so much as leave Prouvaire's apartment for fresh air. She spent most of her time curled up on the floor in the room where Prouvaire kept his plants. Prouvaire, for his part, made sure to bring her food and water at least twice a day, and he tried to get her to open up again, but it seemed Éponine was no longer willing to talk about Marius or about the baby. She would just sit there day in and day out, only getting up occasionally to relieve herself. Prouvaire couldn't help but notice the defeated look that was always on her face these days. It seemed to him that she had given up on living, even if she hadn't attempted to end her life again.

At the beginning of April, Marius stopped by the apartment to visit her. It was Prouvaire who answered the door.

"Hello, Jehan," said Marius jovially. "Is Éponine still here?"

"Yes," replied Prouvaire.

"May I see her?"

"No."

Marius blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. "Is... Is she unwell?"

"Something like that."

Marius's demeanor instantly changed and he started to panic. "Is she going to be all right? Is it very serious? Is the baby okay? You must let me see her; I'm sure I could be a comfort to her."

"No, Marius. No, you can't," replied Prouvaire tersely.

"What do you mean?" he asked slowly.

"Good God, are you really that blind? Is your head really so thick that you can't see what's always been in plain sight? You hurt her, Marius. You hurt her badly and you don't even understand what you've done wrong."

Marius stared at him, his mouth hanging open. "I... I hurt her? What did I do? I... I have to apologise! Please, Jehan, tell me what I did wrong."

Prouvaire sighed irritatedly. "If I have to explain it to you, then nothing you do will ever be able to atone for your actions. Figure it out, Marius."

"Please just let me talk to her," Marius begged desperately.

"Marius," came Éponine's voice from the doorway to the plant room. She had heard Prouvaire's slightly raised voice and, out of curiosity, had come to investigate.

"Éponine!" Marius exclaimed, hurrying to her. "Are you all right? You—"

"I suppose you're here to ask if I've found her," she said quietly.

Marius blinked. "Well, actually—"

"I don't have her address yet," she told him, staring at the floor. She was unwilling to meet his eyes. "But I know where you can find her on Sundays."

"You do?" he asked, his face lighting up. "Where?"

"Outside the Saint-Étienne-du-Mont church. She and her father give shoes and soup to the poor."

"She... She's so generous..." He had a faraway, dewy look in his eyes. Éponine happened to glance up at him and this look made her feel sick to her stomach. Marius pulled her into a gentle hug. "Oh, 'Ponine... 'Ponine, thank you! You have no idea how happy you've just made me."

Éponine made a pitiful sound, a cross between a whimper and a pained moan. Marius seized her hand.

"Are you all right, 'Ponine?"

Éponine pulled her hand away and wrapped her arms around herself. Without another word to Marius, she turned and walked back to the plant room. She closed the door behind her, leaving Marius staring after her in confusion. He turned to look at Prouvaire questioningly, but Prouvaire still had that same hard look on his face. Marius looked down. He had hurt her— that's what Prouvaire had told him, only he had no idea what he could have done. Things had gone so well at the Luxembourg Gardens until it was time to leave. Then Éponine had been withdrawn. Hadn't it started when the baby had kicked? Was it because he'd asked to feel her stomach? Had he somehow offended her by asking? Marius had no idea and it was quite clear that neither Prouvaire nor Éponine herself were keen on telling him where he'd gone wrong.

With one last look at Prouvaire, Marius headed towards the door. He paused in the doorway.

"Please tell her I'm sorry for any pain I've caused."

"You're an idiot," Prouvaire replied harshly, anger evident in his voice.

Marius turned around. "I really don't understand where I went wrong."

"Figure it out, Marius."

And Marius left, feeling worse than he ever had in his life.

With Marius gone, Prouvaire went to check on Éponine, who was once again curled up on the floor of the plant room. He knelt down next to her. When she didn't look up, he sighed softly and just sat there with her. After about 20 minutes, she shifted so that her head was in his lap. He gently stroked her hair.

"Oh, 'Ponine," he murmured. "You deserve so much better than this. You have to be the most generous and self-sacrificing person I have ever met and Marius is a fool not to take better notice of you. I'm so sorry, 'Ponine." When she gave no response, he continued: "I don't think you should help him find this girl. It's clearly hurting you to do so. I know you said you'll do anything to make him happy, but Éponine, don't you know that your happiness matters too? You shouldn't sacrifice your own happiness for his. Yours is just as important."

"His happiness is my happiness," she said quietly, "even if his lies with another girl."

"Are you sure that it does? If you help him find this girl, maybe what you've said will become true. 'Ponine, nothing is set in stone. If you tell him how you feel about him, he might realise that he feels the same way. You told me that he didn't so much as speak to this girl. Right now, yes, he's infatuated with her. He saw a pretty girl, so what? He doesn't know her. There's no emotional connection between them. But you, 'Ponine? You've known him for so long. You two are best friends and I think that if you tell him how you feel, you could become more than that. You need to give yourselves that chance. If you don't say anything, 'Ponine, then you're pushing him into her arms. You definitely will lose him then. If you tell him, then at least you'll have a chance."

"How am I supposed to tell him? I can't do this..."

"You have to do this. This is the only choice."

Éponine looked up. "The only choice... Look how well it worked out last time."

"Yes, well, at least he knows now that he messed up. I didn't tell him how, but he knows that he hurt you. Next time you try to talk to him, I can guarantee you that he'll listen."

"I... Maybe," she said.

"You'll consider it?"

Éponine merely nodded. She would say nothing more on the subject for the rest of the night.


	16. Chapter 16

A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews! They really do inspire me to keep writing, and now I've got an idea in mind for a sequel. I've now planned out how this fic will end and I think (I hope) you'll all be intrigued, even if it doesn't necessarily go how you think it might.

* * *

Éponine spent much of April trying to summon the courage to talk to Marius again. It did not help that she was so frequently emotional and couldn't turn off her emotions like she normally could. She knew that this had to be because of the baby, but that didn't make her feel any less ashamed about being a blubbering mess. Despite Jehan's reassurances that it was perfectly all right to cry, Éponine had determined long ago that crying made her weak and that she should never do it in front of people. That was, however, much easier said than done in her current state.

Her stomach had started to get rather big. It hadn't begun to hinder her yet, but she knew it would start to cause mobility issues soon enough. As such, she knew she had no choice but to stay with Jehan for the time being. She found that she didn't mind it so much; what Jehan was doing for her didn't feel like charity. It was more like friendship; he was helping her because he cared. Marius had often tried to do the same thing, but it hadn't felt right to accept help from someone who already had so little. Jehan had the means to help her without causing detriment to himself. His parents were rather wealthy and frequently sent money to their son. Most of this money typically ended up being distributed to the poor. Jehan would keep what he needed and give the rest to the less fortunate.

During the month of April, Éponine would attempt, usually twice a week, to go and talk to Marius. She would make the trek to the apartment he currently shared with Courfeyrac with every intention of finally telling him how she felt, only to turn back the moment the building came into view. She felt pathetic. If she couldn't muster up the courage to tell him how she felt, perhaps she didn't deserve to be happy. She knew she was her own biggest obstacle to her happiness. Perhaps it was because she didn't truly believe herself capable of happiness. She had lived in misery for so long that happiness seemed a distant and wholly unattainable dream. This reflected in her dreams, wherein she would be chasing a glowing orb that floated at the end of a long, perfectly dark passage. It would be the only light visible, a last vestige of hope. She would run after it, but it remained stubbornly out of reach. The faster she ran, the further the glowing orb would be. She would never reach it, and she would wake up full of despair and longing. She knew what the orb represented, and she knew that each day she didn't tell Marius how she felt, he could only drift further and further from her. Soon, he would be so far from her that she could never again reach him.

Much of April was spent thusly, with Éponine making attempt after attempt to talk to Marius, only to get in her own way time and time again. By the beginning of May, Éponine knew that she needed to just do it. She needed to talk to him before it was too late, and not only because it was starting to become harder to walk all the way to his apartment. So, once again, she forced herself to walk there and when she reached the apartment this time, she did not turn back. She entered the building and walked up the stairs to the floor Marius and Courfeyrac lived on. She took a deep breath and knocked. After a minute or so, Courfeyrac answered the door.

"Oh, hello, Éponine!" he greeted her merrily. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

"Hi, Courfeyrac," Éponine said faintly. She felt so nervous that she was dizzy. "Is Marius here?" she asked.

"I'm afraid not," replied Courfeyrac. "But he probably won't be out much longer; it's getting late. If you want to wait around, I'm sure he'll be home within the hour."

Éponine merely nodded and Courfeyrac stepped aside to let her in. She entered the apartment and moved to sit on the sofa. She closed her eyes for a long moment and tried to calm her nerves.

"Is there anything I can get you?" asked Courfeyrac. Éponine shook her head, not trusting her voice. Courfeyrac frowned and observed her for a moment. "Are you all right, Éponine?" When she didn't answer, he moved to sit in the chair beside the sofa. "If there's anything wrong, I'd be happy to do my best to help you."

"No one can help me with this," she said quietly. "This is something I need to do myself."

"Well, what do you need to do?"

Éponine shook her head. "I don't want to talk about it. If I do, I'll end up convincing myself not to do it. I... I just ask that when Marius arrives, I would really appreciate it if I could talk to him alone. I'm sorry, I know it's an imposition..."

"Nah, don't worry about it," replied Courfeyrac. "I'll head to my room when he gets here and you two'll have your privacy. I don't mind in the slightest," he assured her. "And whatever you've got to talk about, now'll be a good time to do it. He's been going out nearly every night lately, and when he returns he's always in a fantastic mood."

"Where does he go?"

"I don't know. He won't tell me."

"He—"

And just then, the door open and in walked Marius with a rather large, goofy smile on his face. "Oh, hello, 'Ponine!" he said. "This is a nice surprise. What brings you here?" he asked as he walked over to sit next to her on the sofa.

"I'll leave you to it," said Courfeyrac with a wink. He stood and retreated to his room. Marius stared after him, confused.

"What was that about?" he asked.

"Marius, I need to talk to you," said Éponine quickly.

"And I need to tell you something as well," said Marius, his smile returning. "'Ponine, you've made me a very happy man."

Éponine didn't even hear this last part; her heart was pounding too loudly in her ears. It was now or never. She just needed to tell him and deal with whatever consequences there might be. Marius, on the other hand, not noticing her inner turmoil, continued to smile and, at the same time, both of them spoke:

"Marius, I love you," Éponine told him.

"Cosette and I are in love," said Marius at the same time. Then both of them froze.

"You... love me?" asked Marius at the same time as Éponine asked:

"You love her?"

Éponine felt her last bit of hope shatter into a million pieces. She felt like she might vomit or pass out or simply cease to be. Her chest fell so heavy she was surprised she could breathe at all. As quickly as she could, she got to her feet.

"I have to go," she scarcely more than whispered and hurried for the door. Marius gently grabbed her arm.

"'Ponine, you... you love me?"

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, jerking her arm away.

"'Ponine, please..."

"Yes!" she snapped. "I love you. I have always fucking loved you and you've been too blind to see it this entire time. I tried to tell you at the Luxembourg Gardens. I _did_ tell you at the Luxembourg Gardens, but you were too busy staring at your _precious_ Cosette to pay attention to what I was saying. God, Marius... I've been trying to tell you all month. I should have kept my mouth shut. And you... You don't even know what you do... what you've done to me."

"'Ponine, I—"

"Save it, Marius. I don't want to hear anything you have to say right now. I guess... I guess that's where you've been going every night. Fucking Cosette... Of course she would come back to spite me. Of course she would come back to take the only thing I have left in this godforsaken world." Tears pricked at her eyes and she tried furiously to blink them away, but to no avail.

"'Ponine, do you... know Cosette?"

"Know her?" asked Éponine with a high-pitched, unnerving laugh. "I knew her before. Before her life took off and mine was ruined. Of course you would fall in love with her, of all people. It just had to be her..." Rivulets of tears ran freely down her cheeks now. Marius reached towards her, shocked at the sight of them, but Éponine pulled away from him. "Don't touch me! Don't... Don't you _dare_ touch me..." A sob escaped her lips.

"I... I'm sorry, 'Ponine. I truly am, but... but tonight she and I vowed to each other to—"

"Just stop!" Éponine cried out. "I don't want to hear about it. I... I just... I have to go." And she left without another word.

That night in her dreams, the glowing orb would be extinguished and darkness would reign.


	17. Chapter 17

The walk home from Marius and Courfeyrac's apartment felt much longer than usual. Éponine kept her arms wrapped around herself as she walked and wept bitterly. She had waited too long. She had brought this on herself. She felt certain she had missed her one chance at love, for if Marius didn't love her, then who ever would? Éponine placed a hand on her stomach as she felt the baby kick. At least she would never be alone, though there was no way she could tell Marius about the baby now. She considered that it was possible he might choose to be with her if she should reveal the baby was his, but it wouldn't really be a choice. He would stay with her out of obligation and would probably constantly wonder what might have been if he had stayed with Cosette. No, Éponine didn't want that. She wasn't that desperate to have him by her side; she would not force his hand. Marius could never know the child was his.

As Éponine turned down an alleyway, she ran into a familiar sight. A man stood over a woman who lay on the ground. He tossed her a couple of coins, then turned and left. He decidedly didn't make eye contact with Éponine as he passed her. Éponine didn't really care and kept moving forward, but stopped dead in her tracks when she caught a good look at the woman on the ground. She fell to her knees next to her.

"A-Azelma? N-No..."

Azelma slowly sat up. "'Ponine," she said quietly. "What're you doing out this late?"

Époine pulled her into his arms. "Oh, Zel... I'm so sorry... If I'd never left, h-he would've never made you..."

"'Ponine, don't do that," said Azelma firmly. "S'not your fault..."

"I should have protected you from this. You're too young to—"

"Shh... Éponine, stop. Let's not do this here. C'mon, we'll help each other up, okay?"

Éponine slowly nodded and, using each other for support, the two stood up. When they started walking, Azelma winced. Éponine started to fret again, but Azelma hushed her: "I'm fine, 'Ponine. I just stepped on a rock. I should really try an' get shoes."

"'Zelma, I promise you will never have to do this again. You're... You're not gonna go back home. You're gonna stay with me and then both of us will be free from father. I won't let you lose your childhood."

"I already have," she said softly. "I'll stay with you, 'Ponine. I ain't particularly keen on going back to our dad. You know what he's like. Where are you living now?" she asked. "D'you got enough room for me?"

"Well," said Éponine, starting to walk again, Azelma right by her side. "I'm living with a friend," she admitted, "but I'm sure he'll let you stay with us just until we can find a place of our own."

Azelma grinned. "Is it Marius?"

Éponine's demeanour instantly changed, and she stopped walking. "No," she said sharply. "I... I don't think I'll be seeing Marius anymore."

Azelma stopped as well and turned to stare at her. "You're not gonna see him anymore? What d'you mean by that? You're only carrying his kid! Haven't you told him yet? Doesn't he know how you feel?"

"He does now," said Éponine with a bitter laugh, "now that he's gone and promised himself to Cosette. He doesn't know about the baby. How could I tell him that? What good would it do? So now he knows I love him and... and he doesn't feel the same. He... He loves her..." Tears had begun to fall down her cheeks once again, and she knew she couldn't stop them. "I... I'll have to do this alone..."

"No," said Azelma firmly. "You'll not be alone. You've got me. I'll be there to help, 'Ponine. You've got my word."

Éponine threw her arms around her and dissolved into sobs. Azelma gingerly stroked her hair; she wasn't used to outbursts of emotion from Éponine. She held her there for several more moments before Éponine finally released her. Azelma offered her sister a reassuring smile and reached up to wipe away some stray tears.

"It's gonna be all right, 'Ponine. You won't be alone; I promise."

"Thanks, 'Zel."

"Anytime. Now, c'mon. It's getting cold."

* * *

As expected, Jehan was more than willing to allow Azelma to stay with them. In fact, he seemed overjoyed that he was able to provide some assistance. Azelma took to Jehan instantly. It was just so easy to like him.

While Jehan prepared tea in the kitchen, Éponine was making up a bed for Azelma next to her own makeshift bed in the plant room. Jehan had a lot of extra bedding, so even despite not having a mattress to sleep on, Éponine had been perfectly comfortable. Now, however, she felt quite anxious. She knew that once the tea was ready, Jehan would ask how things had gone with Marius, and then she would have to tell him. It would be like reliving it. She didn't want to feel this grief anymore. She wanted all of the heaviness to vanish so that she could breathe again. She yearned for a taste of happiness.

"The tea is ready!" Jehan called out. Azelma instantly got to her feet and started towards the kitchen, but Éponine hesitated. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that it could not be avoided. She followed Azelma out of the plant room and into the kitchen, where the two sat down at the table as Jehan poured the tea. When he finished, he sat down across from them and looked expectantly at Éponine.

Before she could manage a single word, she broke down once more. Jehan took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Oh, Éponine," he murmured. "I'm so sorry..."

"He loves her..." she whispered. "I waited too long."


	18. Chapter 18

A/N: Apologies for the delay. I hope everyone is keeping healthy. Before we get into it, I want to explain something briefly:

This was originally going to be two separate fics (I was planning a sequel), but I've decided to make it one longer fic separated into three parts. Currently, you're reading Volume I; there will be three volumes. Without spoiling anything, I want to say that this volume will end in a certain way, but I implore you to keep reading because you may be surprised by the final outcome of the story. The three volumes will be different in terms of focus, but I promise all will be resolved in the end.

Lastly, I can't make myself adhere to a strict update schedule, but I do promise that I intend to finish this, even though there might be lengthy pauses between updates. University takes up a lot of my time, unfortunately, but I will update when I can. Thank you to everyone who continues to read this, and to those of you who leave reviews. It's always very pleasant to see what you lovely people have to say about the story.

Also I apologise for any errors. It's past 1AM, but I wanted to post this before bed.

* * *

Éponine did not see Marius at all for the rest of May. She spent most of her time with Azelma and Jehan, though primarily with the former as the latter had classes and meetings to attend. Éponine staunchly refused to accompany Prouvaire to any of the meetings of Les Amis de l'ABC, and though he had tried to convince her initially, he quickly gave up on this endeavour. Marius had been at every meeting lately, though it seemed he paid less and less attention to what was being said. Nevertheless, oblivious though he was, Marius could sense the heated political climate. It was abundantly clear to all of Les Amis de l'ABC that the revolution was near. All that was needed now was a spark, and revolution would be the explosion that ensued.

Though she did not attend the meetings, Éponine had figured it out for herself that revolution was in the offing. The city was abuzz with whispers of the coming rebellion, but she still had her doubts as to whether or not the people would rise when it did. It was one thing to talk of revolution; it was a wholly other thing to participate in one. It could not be doubted that the people wanted change; it was less certain whether they were willing to possibly die to achieve that end.

Try though she may to forget her feelings of love, she could not bring herself to hate Marius. She wanted to hate him; she felt it would be so much easier if she could hate him. It felt much more empowering to be angry than heartbroken, but she wondered if she could really blame him. Was it his fault she had waited so long to tell him how she felt? Was it really his fault that he had been too drunk to remember their night of passion the following day? As much as she wanted to despise him for loving Cosette, she just couldn't do it. He loved her, and Éponine would have to accept that. That didn't mean, however, that she could bear seeing him again. Being in his presence would hurt more than absence. Still, she yearned for him and though she refused to seek him out, she longed for even a glimpse of him.

By the beginning of June, Éponine had gotten rather large and very round. She was now eight months along and nearly always exhausted. She didn't go out much anymore; mostly, she stayed in Prouvaire's apartment with Azelma. Azelma had taken up the task of caretaker with pride. She was happy to make sure Éponine wasn't straining herself, and happy to bring her anything she needed. She didn't mind massaging her sister's swollen feet or offering reassuring words.

On the evening of June the 4th, Éponine was sitting by the window. Prouvaire was at one of his evening classes, and Azelma had gone to buy groceries for dinner with some money that Jehan had left. As she gazed out the window, her mind wandering to a plethora of different yet equally random subjects, she found her eyes drawn to a passing figure and she felt her heart drop into her stomach; it was Marius. She hadn't seen him at all since that night.

She wasn't sure what possessed her to do it, but before she could stop to think about what she was doing, she found herself heading out the door, down the stairs, and out of the building. Now she was following him. She knew where he must be going, but that didn't stop her from trailing behind. She hadn't seen him in so long and now, despite herself and despite the pain she felt, she was determined not to let him out of her sight. Damn it, she had missed him.

She followed him all the way to number 55 Rue Plumet, formerly the Rue Blomet. From a distance and behind a young tree, she watched as he approached the gated garden. She watched as a rapturously beautiful young woman came to greet him and admitted him entrance to the garden. She watched as they sat and talked. She didn't know for how long she stood there watching; she didn't even notice the sun beginning to set. She couldn't pull her gaze away even as the two kissed and she felt that her heart must surely shatter. What finally drew her attention away from the pair was the sound of approaching footsteps and hushed voices.

Turning around to look, she saw her father and the Patron Minette approaching. She hoped that they would pass right by, but she knew in her gut that they were headed for number 55. It was by far the nicest house in the area, and the only way her father would be able to convince the Patron Minette to help him with anything would be if there were a hefty payout for the gang members.

Now that they were much closer, she could hear snippets of their hushed conversation.

"... very rich," her father was saying. "And cheated me out of decent money for that brat, Cosette. It's time that debt was settled."

"I don't give a fuck about your debts," said Gueulemer, "so long as we get the money you promised."

"Yeh'll get what I said you'd get," he replied. "Keep yer voice down."

"Is there a dog in the garden?" asked Babet.

"Dunno," answered Thénardier, "but I brought a knife. If it barks, we'll silence it."

Éponine started to panic. Marius was in there... She couldn't allow any harm to come to him; she had to do something. In moving a bit closer, she accidentally stepped on a stick, which promptly snapped. Next thing she knew, she had been roughly grabbed and shoved before the gang of men.

"Who's the brat?" asked Thénardier.

"You don't recognise your own child?" asked Montparnasse.

Thénardier took a better look at his eldest child. "It is you," he growled. "Yeh've got some nerve."

"Get out of here," Éponine told him, her expression hard. "There's nothing for you here. Go bother someone else."

Her father backhanded her. "You don't tell me what to do," he spat.

Éponine spat blood onto the ground. "Look, I know this house. There is nothing of value here. The old man and his daughter live quiet lives."

"We'll be the judges of that," replied Thénardier, shoving her aside.

"There is a dog," said Éponine quickly. "Me. If you try to enter that garden, I will scream. I will knock on doors and shout until people come running. I'll make sure you're all arrested! You know I will," she said firmly, a fire burning in her eyes. "Leave!"

"You bitch," growled Thénardier and he made to grab her, but she opened her mouth and screamed as loudly as she could. "This isn't over," he spat before taking off. The Patron Minette, too, scattered.

Marius arrived at the gate just in time to see them disappear from sight. His eyes quickly found Éponine.

"'Ponine!" he cried out in shock. "Your cry sent them away. Thank you," he said sincerely. He turned to beckon Cosette over. "Cosette, this is my friend, Éponine. She's the one who told me where to find you at the church. She brought us together." Then he seemed to recall their last conversation and his cheeks reddened as he realised these probably weren't words she wanted to hear.

"Thank you, Mademoiselle," said Cosette, her large blue eyes pouring into Éponine's. "Truly. You have made us so happy."

Éponine bit her tongue to avoid saying everything she wanted to say. Her heart had already shattered and now it felt like they were dancing on the remains. "I should go," she said quietly, turning to leave. Marius quickly opened the gate and grabbed her arm.

"'Ponine, I'll walk you home. I can hear Cosette's father coming; we need to get out of here."

Éponine jerked her arm away. "No, thanks," she replied coldly. She turned and walked away, but she didn't go far. She paused as soon as she had rounded a corner and leaned against the side of a building. She felt like she might be sick. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground. Part of her wished she hadn't followed him; she wished she hadn't seen them together, but it had been a sort of morbid curiosity. At the same time, however, she knew it was a good thing that she had followed. If she hadn't been there to prevent her father and the Patron Minette from entering, who knew what they might have done? She didn't care so much about Cosette, but she couldn't bear it if something happened to Marius, and Monsieur Leblanc was a very kind man; she didn't wish him any harm either.

She closed her eyes for a long moment and took several calming deep breaths. She knew for certain now that she had to cut Marius from her life. Seeing him with Cosette had been too painful, and she knew that if she kept Marius in her life, it would mean keeping Cosette as well. She found it incredibly easy to hate Cosette, to blame her for everything that had gone wrong in her life. After all, hadn't it been shortly after Cosette's departure that her family had lost the inn? Cosette had gone to live a life of riches, whereas Éponine and her family were reduced to rags.

Sighing heavily, Éponine carefully got to her feet. There was no point sitting around here. She had no doubt that Azelma would start to worry if she didn't return home soon. She moved to peer around the corner of the building. Marius had gone already. She was about to walk out when she noticed Cosette approach the gate and tie a letter to it with a ribbon. Éponine waited until Cosette had gone back inside, then walked over to the gate to look at the letter. It was addressed to Marius. She looked around and then snatched the letter. She unfurled it and began to read:

_My dearest, Marius,_

_I am writing to tell you we are moving house, my dove. If you need to find me, we will be at No. 7 Rue de l'Homme Armé. Papa is frightened. He says he's noticed shadows watching our house these past few nights and tonight the scream made him decide it's no longer safe here. My love, he wants to leave for Calais soon. He wants us to board a ship to England. My darling, you must come see me at the new address. We must find a way to be together._

_With all my love,_

_Your Cosette_

Éponine stared at the piece of paper for several long moments after reading it, then unceremoniously shoved it into her pocket, and turned to leave. She felt like laughing. As long as Marius never saw this letter, his chances at a future with Cosette were greatly diminished. Perhaps then he might take notice of her; perhaps then his feelings would change. Éponine felt like she'd been gifted a second chance, and all she had to do was destroy the letter.

As she turned down an alleyway, she froze. Her father was standing in front of her, and he was livid.

"You bitch," he growled. Éponine took several steps back, but he lunged forward and grabbed her by her hair.

He slammed her head into the brick building nearest them, and all went black.


	19. Chapter 19

_Thump, thump._

Her heart pounded in her ears. Everything felt heavy. She couldn't even force her eyes to open. Drops of rain fell upon her, so cold and unrelenting.

_Thump, thump._

And there was pain. Everything hurt. Her head was pounding and felt like it had been split right open. What was that ringing sound? The ground beneath her felt so hard and unforgiving. She felt a sharp pain in her stomach and an intense pressure in her pelvis.

_Thump, thump_.

She knew something was wrong; there was something she ought to be worried about, but she couldn't remember. How had she come to be here? She could not say. She wasn't entirely sure where "here" was.

_Thump, thump_.

Another wave of stomach pain washed over her and she heard a cry. It took her a moment to realise it was she who had made the sound.

_Thump, thump_.

She became aware of another sound now: footsteps rushing towards her, then a voice:

"'Ponine!"

She knew that voice. That voice meant safety.

"Oh god, 'Ponine... Can you hear me, 'Ponine? Jehan, Azelma, she's over here!"

Then there were more footsteps and another cry of, "'Ponine! No, no, no, no... Is she alive?" Éponine recognised her sister's voice.

"She's breathing," said Marius. "We need to bring her somewhere safe."

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"'Ponine, I'm going to pick you up now," Marius told her. "We're going to get you help."

Éponine heard herself groan. Moving did not sound like a great idea. When he tried to lift her, she cried out in pain.

"It's all right," he murmured. "I've got you."

"The Hôpital Necker is maybe a ten minute walk from here," said Jehan.

Éponine finally forced her eyes open just as they began to walk. It was dark out now and not a single star was visible with the rain pouring down as it was. She gave another faint cry as the pain in her stomach returned.

"I'm here, 'Ponine," said Azelma, taking her hand. "It's going to be okay."

And then all went black once more.

* * *

When Éponine next awoke, she found she was in an unfamiliar room with a cross on the wall and several other religious ornaments on a wooden shelf. Azelma was seated in a chair next to the bed in which Éponine lay. She had fallen asleep and Éponine vaguely wondered how long it had been since she'd been found. She tried to sit up and cried out at the ensuing pain. _All right_, she thought, clenching her teeth. _My ribs are definitely broken_.

"'Ponine?" asked Azelma, who had awoke upon hearing her sister's cry. She took hold of Éponine's hand. "Oh, thank god you're awake! They weren't sure if... But you're going to be okay now. Oh, 'Ponine... what happened?"

"I ran into father in an alleyway," replied Éponine bluntly. "He was angry because I stopped him from robbing the lark's house."

"I'll kill him," spat Azelma, her eyes filled with a cold fury. "I will end him for this."

"No, I—" and she gave another cry of pain as she felt that same pressure build in her pelvis.

"Squeeze my hand, if you need to," Azelma told her. "'Ponine, the matron said you're going to have the baby today."

Éponine's eyes widened. "I-I... I'm not ready..."

"It's going to be okay," Azelma assured her. "The matron is going to take good care of you and I'll be right here the whole time."

Éponine closed her eyes and was silent for several moments, lost in thought. The baby was coming and she had no idea what she was supposed to do. She didn't know how to be a mother and it wasn't like she could follow any examples; her own mother hadn't exactly been the best role model. She also had no idea how she was supposed to afford a child. Sure, Jehan had offered to help, but she could hardly mooch off of him forever. She wished she had more time to plan. And then... what was she supposed to name the babe? She hadn't really thought about it, not in depth. She had toyed with names occasionally, but had never seriously considered any of the ideas that had come to mind. Of course, first she had to get through childbirth. Not all women survived and that frightened her. What would happen to the child if she died? Who would take care of it? Azelma would surely try, but she was only 14 and much too young to handle it on her own. Was this matron Azelma spoke of equipped to handle a birth? And then... what if it was a stillbirth? What if her father had robbed the child of the chance to live altogether?

Éponine finally opened her eyes. "Where are we?" she asked Azelma.

"We're at the Abbaye aux Bois. It was nearby. We wanted to take you to the Hôpital Necker, but this was closer and the Matron saw us as we approached and brought us in. Marius carried you here. Jehan and I had been searching for a couple hours and we ran into him. He told us what had happened at Cosette's house."

"Where are they?" Éponine asked, looking around as though she thought she had merely overlooked them.

"They weren't allowed to stay," replied Azelma. "The sisters sent them away. 'Ponine, there's... there's something else."

"What is it?"

"I know you haven't been going to the meetings, but... but you know how Jehan mentioned the death of that general?"

"Lamarque?"

"Yes, him," said Azelma, biting her lip. "His... His funeral is tomorrow and they're planning on using it to mount their insurrection."

All colour drained from Éponine's face. "Tomorrow? The... The revolution is tomorrow?"

Azelma nodded grimly.

"The fools..." said Éponine softly. "The people aren't ready... They're going to be slaughtered."

"Éponine," said Azelma, her tone placating, "Marius is planning on fighting. He... When we were looking for you, we went to see Cosette. Marius wondered if maybe she'd seen or heard something, but... She was gone. In the hours since you two had left, she and her father completely moved house. And... And when we ran into Marius, he had just been to see his grandfather to get his blessing..."

Éponine opened and closed her mouth several times. That was it, then. She was going to have this baby... and Jehan and Marius and all the rest of them were going to get themselves killed. There was no hope.

Tears filled her eyes and she couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. She let them flow in rivulets down her cheeks and into her hair.

"Oh, 'Ponine..." murmured Azelma, gently brushing a stray piece of hair from her sister's forehead. "I'm so sorry... I promise I'll be here through it all, if that's any comfort. Besides, you don't know that they won't succeed. What if they win? Think of the world they could create."

Éponine merely shook her head. She didn't want to get her hopes up.

At that moment, an older woman entered the room, followed by a slightly younger woman.

"Ah, you're awake," said the older woman, whom Éponine took for the matron. "I am Matron Delisse, and this here is Madame Igraine Babineau. She's a midwife who agreed to assist me in getting you through childbirth. While you were asleep, I palpated your stomach and I fear the child is breech."

"The child is what?" asked Éponine blankly.

"Breech. The baby is upside-down from how it should be. We could try to flip the baby, but that might be too traumatic and it's rarely successful. You're likely in for a long birth."

"... Of course," said Éponine, laughing humourlessly. "Of course the baby is breech. Everything is wrong... Everything is so wrong..."

Azelma squeezed her hand. "Try to have faith, 'Ponine. Please don't give up."

"Faith," Éponine scoffed. "What good has faith ever done for me? It's time to accept reality, Azelma. Marius and Jehan are going to die; I could die; the baby might already be dead."

"You can't die," Azelma whispered, tears filling her eyes. "You can't leave me all alone."

Éponine's expression softened somewhat. "I'm not gonna try to die, but... but 'Zel, you need to know that it could happen."

"It won't," said Azelma firmly. "I forbid it."

Éponine tried to offer a halfhearted smile, but it looked more like a grimace. "We shall see."


End file.
